Take Me or Leave Me
by klarolineepiclove
Summary: Don Flack is just starting to get his life together admidst his grief. At a crime scene, he meets Brooke Davis, who's dealing with a tragedy of her own. The last thing he needs is her distracting him from getting back on track...Or is she what he needs?
1. Chapter 1

**Take Me or Leave Me**

**Author's Notes: So apparently watching a favorite episode of One Tree Hill followed by a nonstop marathon on CSI:NY right before bed leads to very vivid dreams that morph into storylines. Who knew?**  
**Hopefully this idea intrigues a lot of you, because after that dream, I'm enthralled. And when that happens, you just have to put it on paper. Hope you guys enjoy!**

**Summary: A year after the death of Jessica Angell, Don Flack is just starting to get his life together amidst his grief. During a hit-and-run, he crosses paths with Brooke Davis, a young fashion designer who's dealing with her own tragedy. The last thing he needs is the pretty hazel eyed beauty to distract him from getting back on track…but he soon finds that she might be just what he needs to stay on it.**

**Timeline: Obviously, some time has passed since Angell died. I'm not super fond of Jo on the show, so Stella is still here. As for One Tree Hill, it's probably mid season 5, but with a few twists.**

**00000000**

Punching the time clock was getting easier.

Detective Don Flack Jr. let his seasoned eyes travel across the bullpen, taking in every action that was happening around him. Perps were being cuffed to chairs, witnesses were giving statements, private jokes were exchanged between partners and coworkers. Life did go on.

If you'd asked him this time last year, Don would have vehemently denied that statement.

His eyes drifted out of habit to the newly occupied desk across the bullpen.

The fresh-faced rookie that now sat behind Jess' desk was hunched over a stack of forms, his pen busily scribbling away as he ran a hand through his hair.

The world, did indeed, go on. It was something Don was finding easier to admit each day.

With a sigh, he rounded the corner of his desk, snatching up the small collection of Post-It notes that detailed messages that had come in during his absence. He sank down into his chair, his brow furrowing as he read through the notes. Nothing too demanding, he noted with ease.

The sudden ringing of his desk phone had him biting back a groan.

"Spoke too soon," he muttered, sighing as he picked up the handset.

"Flack."

00000000

New York certainly hadn't changed in the year she'd been gone. If anything, it was just as bustling and busy as ever.

Brooke Davis stood at the window of her penthouse apartment, her eyes overlooking the familiar buildings and landmarks she'd gazed at every day since she was 19. As strange as it sounded, the towering buildings had been a comfort to Brooke in those first few years away from Tree Hill.

But it seemed that even her old haunting grounds couldn't be a comfort to her now.

"Aunt Brooke."

She turned around, a smile appearing on her flawless face when she saw the little boy padding towards her in socked feet, a sleepy expression on his face.

"Well, morning there, Sleepy Head," she said, setting her coffee cup onto the table next to her as she crouched down to press a quick kiss to his forehead. "I thought you were going to sleep away the day."

James Lucas Scott rubbed his eyes as he gazed up at her, and Brooke couldn't help the stab of pain that sliced through her heart when she realized, once again, that they were Nathan's eyes.

"I don't think my bed wanted to let me get up," Jamie replied, shuffling over to the kitchen table and crawling into the chair.

Brooke laughed at his statement, rising to her full height and following his lead, pulling over a bowl and her godson's favorite box of cereal. "Mmm…beds are funny that way. Mine used to wrap me up like a mummy so I couldn't crawl out of it." She smiled when he giggled, and poured him a bowl of the cereal.

She sat back as she watched him eat, her mind drifting over the events of the last 12 months.

12 months….

Had it really been that long since a drunk driver had so completely altered their lives?

"Aunt Brooke?"

She snapped out of her trance, her eyes lowering to meet the eyes of five-year-old Jamie.

Five-year-old orphaned Jamie.

She smiled, leaning her elbows onto the glass tabletop and angling her head towards him.

"What's up, handsome?"

"Do you have to work today? Because Joey, a kid at dayschool, told me that you can go for carriage rides in Central Park. And that giant horses pull the carriage. And I was thinking that it'd be really cool to do, since I've never seen a horse before."

Brooke pursed her lips, nodding as she pretended to contemplate his proposal. It was true that she was overdue for an appearance at the office, but since she had promoted Millicent, she knew that Clothes Over Bros. wouldn't crumble without her there for another day.

She'd learned very well that you never knew how many "lazy" days you got to spend with the people you cared about.

"I think that sounds like an awesome idea, Jame," she said, glad when she saw his young face split into an excited smile. "How about you finish your breakfast, and then we can get dressed?"

Jamie nodded, ducking his head as he dug into his cereal, his short legs swinging back and forth on the chair.

Brooke was glad she could make Jamie happy. His bright little smile hadn't been showing up as often as it used to. Not that she blamed him at all. He'd lost the two people that meant the world to him in one quick instant.

So had she.

She'd spent every day since trying to make that smile that had always melted her heart appear as often as she could manage. If it meant she left her company in the hands of her second-in-command for one more day, so be it.

Jamie was far more important.

00000000

The crime scene was utter chaos.

"Hey, make sure those pictures get deleted, Martinez, okay? We're not running some circus around here," Don shouted to one of the uniformed officers by the crime scene tape, pointing with his pen to crowd of passerbys snapping away on their cellphones.

If it's not the press, it's nosy citizens.

He shook his head, turning back to stare at the victim sprawled across the sidewalk. He flipped open his memo pad, motioning towards her as he turned to speak to Mac Taylor. "Vic is Clarissa Parsons, 21. Witnesses say she was crossing the street when an older model Cherokee came roaring from a parking spot, hitting her before speed off. So far, nobody can recall the plates number, but we're still questioning a few of them."

Detective Mac Taylor nodded as he crouched down next to the body, his face pinched in concentration as he his eyes took in the scene.

Clarissa Parsons was a blond, but her shoulder length hair was stained red from the blood that had pooled from the wound on her forehead. Her body showed the usual signs of a hit-and-run—contusions along the abdomen and lower back, abrasions along the arms and legs. Her right arm was twisted into an unnatural angle beneath her body, her lifeless green eyes staring into the sky above them.

"What makes you think this is anything other an accidental hit-and-run?" Mac questioned, raising his head to peer at the younger man behind him.

"First responders said the eyewitnesses reported the car was sitting idling before the vic headed across the street. It wasn't until she was halfway across that it headed straight for her. Combine that with the fact that Miss Parsons is the third hit-and-run this week with this kind of M.O., and it makes you scratch your head."

Mac nodded, rising to his feet. "Alright, we'll process the scene, get her back to M.E. Maybe Sid can tell us something new; see if there's any similarities between Clarissa and the previous two victims. Do we have a name for next of kin yet?"

Don nodded, closing his memo pad. "A father, lives over in Yonkers. I'm heading over there once I'm done here." He sighed, glancing down at the young woman whose life had been cruelly ended far too soon. "Not a visit I'm looking forward to."

Mac nodded, patting Don's shoulder as he headed towards his crime scene kit. "It never is."

Don nodded in agreement, stepping back as the crime scene team headed towards the victim, sliding his memo book into the inner pocket of his jacket.

"Detective Flack?"

He turned at the sound of his name, and came face to face with Martinez. He raised his eyebrows, walking over towards him.

"There's a lady over there who says her kid spotted the license plate."

Don glanced over the officer's shoulder, his gaze traveling across the crowd on the other side of the yellow tape. "Which one?" he asked, pulling his memo pad back out as he moved to head in that direction.

Martinez grinned, raising his eyebrows as he pointed behind him. "The looker in the purple top," he said.

Flack cast him a sidelong glance as he moved past him. "What, you combing crime scenes for dates now, Dave?"

The younger officer laughed, shrugging. "If I thought I had a chance in hell with her, you bet your ass I'd start."

Flack scoffed, shaking his head as he made his way to the tape, his eyes searching the crowd for a woman in a purple top. When he finally spotted her, he found himself hesitating in his steps. Calling the woman a looker wasn't doing her justice.

He slowed his steps as he took her in. A pale, flawless face was taking in the scene, framed by a mess of long, brown hair that seemed to shimmer in the afternoon sunlight. A slim, athletic figure was clothed in a snug-fitting purple blouse and dark denim blue jeans, a pair of booted heels on her feet. His eyes trailed to the small, blonde haired boy she held cradled next to her, his face buried in her side.

She was shielding him from the scene.

Don cleared his throat as he walked up to her, pulling his badge from his pocket and holding it up to her. "I'm Detective Flack," he said, watching as her hazel eyes tore themselves away from the grisly scene to stare up at him. "The officer mentioned you may have seen something relating to the accident."

She nodded, her hand coming up to capture a bit of flyaway hair in the wind, tucking it behind her ear.

"Yeah," she said softly, her hand tightening slightly on the shoulder of the little boy pressed into her stomach.

"Can I get your name?" Flack asked, trying to ignore the way her raspy voice seemed to flow through his ears.

"Brooke Davis. This is Jamie," she said, glancing down at the boy next to her.

Flack caught the look of worry in Brooke's eyes as they traveled between Jamie and the crime scene, and he nodded, raising the tape and ducking underneath it. "Miss Davis, why don't we step over here," he said, motioning to a canopied table in front of a bistro. "Away from all the chaos, huh?"

Brooke looked at him in relief, a small, grateful smile appearing on her face.

Don couldn't ignore the way his heart leapt into his throat at that.

He held out an arm to let her lead the way, watching as she ducked to quietly speak her son and usher him towards the table. He followed with a quick glance over his shoulder, watching as the coroner unloaded a black body bag next to the victim.

He stepped around the table as Brooke helped the little boy into one of the chairs, seating him so his back was to the crime tape and everything that laid beyond it.

Flack took the seat opposite the boy, folding his hands onto the table top as he looked at him. Frightened blue eyes were staring up at him, and he was wondering how the hell a kid like this was processing what had just happened. "Hey, there, champ," he said, smiling crookedly as Jamie tilted his head higher to meet his eyes. "You wanna tell me what you saw happened?"

Jamie hesitated as he looked up at Brooke, who smiled at him encouragingly even as she squeezed his shoulders reassuringly. She nodded towards Flack, and the boy turned back to him, his face scrunching up as he tried to remember.

"A car hit the lady."

Flack nodded, keeping his gaze trained on the boy's face, trying to keep him as much at ease as he could. "Do you remember anything about the car? That officer your mom talked to said you think you saw the license plate? The numbers on the back of the car?"

"This is my Aunt Brooke, not my momma," Jamie said matter-of-factly.

Flack chuckled softly, raising his eyes to meet the beauty who stood behind the boy. She was shaking her head slightly, a smile playing across her pretty features. So she was his aunt. Not his mom.

"Well, my apologies there, Jamie," he said, meeting his eyes again as he pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. Now was not the time. "So your Aunt Brooke…she mentioned you saw the license plate?" The boy nodded. "Can you remember what was on it? Letters, numbers, anything like that?"

"0313," Jamie said with confidence, his blond head bobbing. "I remember because it's my bunny Chester's birthday."

Flack grinned. "Your bunny Chester's birthday, huh? Some coincidence that is. How about letters? Did you see any letters?"

Jamie's face scrunched up again. "I think there was a V and a F."

Flack nodded, writing down the details in his memo pad. "That's one heck of a recollection you've got there, kid," he said, smiling at the boy. "I wouldn't want to play Memory against you."

Jamie giggled, his smile splitting across his face. "Aunt Brooke stinks at that game."

His aunt sighed behind him, and Flack grinned when she ruffled his hair, the boy squirmed away from her even as he grinned back. "Oh, come on," he said, returning his book to his jacket pocket. "I bet she's not that bad."

"No, I am," Brooke replied, shrugging. "He kicks my butt every game."

Flack winced playfully, leaning back in his chair. "Yikes…hopefully you weren't playing for dough."

"We eat dough sometimes," Jamie chimed in.

Both Flack and Brooke laughed at that, and the brunette patted the boy's shoulder affectionately. "Not that kind of dough, Jame," she said, smiling.

She really was gorgeous when she smiled, Flack thought.

He watched as her eyes met his, and he saw her head tilt slightly to the side as she took him in. He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable under her gaze. She looked familiar, he came to realize. Like he'd met or seen her somewhere before. But he was finding it hard to believe he'd forget a smile like that.

"Are you two okay?" he asked, his eyes looking them both over for any injuries.

Brooke shook her head. "No, we're fine," she said. "Just a little shook up…we weren't far behind her…when it happened." She shrugged, shifting on her feet slightly. She cast a quick look over her shoulder, her face returning disturbed after catching sight of the body bag being lifted into the coroner's van. "Poor girl," she said softly.

Flack nodded, his eyes taking in the same scene she had. Mac was right. It never got easier.

"Did that girl get hurt?" Jamie asked, looking between the two of them.

Flack raised his eyes to Brooke, watching as she looked down at her nephew, seeming to search for a gentle way to explain to the child that the girl was far worse than hurt. He leaned forward, catching her eye before he angled his head towards Jamie. "Yeah, kid. She got hurt. But, thanks to you, we're going to be able to catch the guy that hit her with his car. You and your awesome memory saw to that. You, my friend, are one awesome eye witness."

He was rewarded with a smile, and he settled back in his chair, raising his eyes to meet Brooke's again. She was looking at him in grateful silence, her smile expressing her gratitude better than any words could say. He nodded back, smiling himself. His eyes flicked beyond her shoulder, and the sight of Danny Messer waving him back over to the crime scene. He raised his head at him, sliding out of his chair as he looked down at the boy again. "Thanks for all your help, buddy. You were a real hero today."

"I have a cape, too," Jamie said, grinning up at him proudly.

"A cape? Man, that's the coolest thing I think I've ever heard. Where can I get one of those?"

"Aunt Brooke can make you one, can't you, Aunt Brooke," he said, peering up at the woman behind him. She smiled down at him, and he turned back to Don. "She's really good at making things."

Flack smiled, nodding. "I don't doubt that," he said, watching as those captivating hazel eyes met his, and he was rewarded with a small smile. He reached into his pocket and withdrew one of his business cards, taking a step closer to Brooke as he held it out to her. "In case you remember anything later on," he said.

Brooke nodded, and reached for the card, her fingers lightly grazing his as she grabbed ahold of its end.

He nearly pulled back at the shot of electricity that skyrocketed up his arm, and he saw her eyes widen slightly, as if she felt it too. They held their position for a long moment, eyes fixed on each other, before she withdrew quickly, sliding the card into her back pocket. She smiled then, nodding slightly. "Thank you, detective," she said softly, resting her hand on Jamie's shoulder as she looked at him.

He nodded, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks. "Thank you, Miss Davis," he said, before smiling down at Jamie. "You too, champ." He was rewarded with a small smile and a head bob, and he grinned. He met the eyes of Brooke Davis once more before he headed back towards the crime scene.

He couldn't help the glance he threw over his shoulder as he neared the yellow tape. Brooke was pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Jamie's head as he slid off the chair, his small hand reaching up automatically to grasp hers tightly. She looked over her shoulder as they started down the sidewalk, her eyes meeting his once more. She smiled softly again, raising her free hand in a farewell wave, before she turned away.

Don heard a low whistle next to him, and he looked over to see Danny staring after them as well.

"Who was the broad?" he asked, tilting his head as they rounded the corner up the street.

Don shook his head, surprised at the feeling of jealousy he felt at his friend's attention to Brooke. "Just a witness," he snapped, turning towards the crime scene.

Danny pursed his lips as he frowned, falling into step with him. "Just a witness? Looked a bit more than just taking a statement from where I was standing, Donnie."

"Maybe you should have moved your position, Messer," Don replied, shoving his friend slightly as he headed towards his car. He couldn't help but smile at the chuckle that rose from his colleague, and he shook his head as he opened the driver side door. He leaned against it, letting his gaze once more travel to the now deserted corner where Brooke Davis and her nephew Jamie had disappeared.

He wiggled the fingers of his right hand, frowning. That was one hell of a contact shock.

He'd never felt that before. Not even with Jess…

He shook his head, refusing to think about his late girlfriend and partner. Certainly refusing to think of Brooke Davis in that manner. She was just a witness, like he'd told Danny. Nothing more.

But for some reason, as he climbed behind the wheel of his car, he couldn't get her hazel eyes out his mind.

**0000000000**

**So…there…the first chapter is up. I shall let you all be the judge of whether or not I should continue. I'm secretly hoping you think I should. My dream, I can safely say, is now running amok in my head, and I fear it won't be satiated until I tell its story. So let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Take Me or Leave Me**

**A.N.: I own nothing**

00000000

The penthouse apartment that housed Brooke Davis—and now, her godson James Lucas Scott, as well—was pitch black. The bright lights from New York shimmered against the paneled walls, casting shadows throughout the hallway. The silence could have deafening, if they didn't know what to listen for.

Brooke leaned against the door frame that led to her spare bedroom, her eyes fixated on the small form huddled on the bed. The basketball sheets that covered Jamie to his chin rose and fell with every breath, and she let herself simply be in the sound of his even breathing. The dim light from his night light cast a pale shadow over his peaceful face, and she let her eyes linger over his features.

She tried to squelch the sound of spinning tires from her memory; the sight of the large vehicle barreling straight for the intersection her young ward had just been about to step onto. She could steal hear Jamie's terrified gasp when she'd grabbed him around the waist, jerking him straight back into her chest as she cradled him against her. She could still feel the way his young eyes had blinked against the palm of her hand when she'd attempted to cover his eyes from the traumatic sight that had been unfolding before her own.

She sighed, watching as Jamie shifted in his sleep, his tiny hand coming up to swat at something only he could see in his imagination. She smiled sadly, her mind fading back to that fateful night a year ago, when one phone call had shattered both of their realities.

_Brooke grinned at the giggle that was trickling from behind her armchair, her hands tracing the outline of the couch as she tiptoed through her living room. "Man, Jamie Scott…you are one good hider. I don't have any idea where you are," she said, smothering her chuckle when the giggling grew more loud. She sighed, putting a hand against her hip as she contemplated the room before her. "Geez…you'd think I was playing with the Invisible Man." _

_She bit her bottom lip, slipping off her high heeled shoes as she snuck around the back of the chair, her eyes catching sight of the little blonde head that was peering around the opposite side. She slunk down to her knees, careful to not make a sound, before she reached out, grabbing ahold of the squealing little boy. "Gotcha," she said, crushing him to her chest as he laughed and kicked._

"_Darn it, Aunt Brooke, you always do that!" Jamie laughed, looking behind him to smile up at her._

_Brooke laughed, rocking onto the back of her heels, and shrugged her shoulders. "Well, you always give me a run for my money, buddy." She sighed, taking in a deep breath. "Man. That really works up your appetite, huh? How about we order….pizza?"_

_Jamie's eyes lit up at her suggestion, and he jumped to his feet, racing to the refrigerator where a well-known delivery menu was hung proudly. "I want super stuffed crust, Aunt Brooke. So stuffed that it barely fits in the box!"_

_Brooke laughed, shaking her head as she rose to her feet. _

_The phone on the end table next to her began to ring, and she glanced at the clock against the wall. It was a little late for phone calls. She smiled. Maybe Lucas and Peyton worked things out after all, she thought, thinking on her roommate who'd left in a hurry just hours before after a call from the aforementioned gentleman. _

_She snatched up the handset, making a silly face at her godson as she pressed 'Talk'. "Hello?"_

"_May I speak with Brooke Davis, please?"_

_She frowned at the professional sounding voice on the other end. "Speaking. Who's this?"_

"_Miss Davis, this is Nurse Robinson, I'm calling from Tree Hill General." Brooke felt her heart plummet to the bottom of her stomach. "I'm calling in regards to Nathan and Haley Scott. You were listed as their emergency contact….I'm afraid there's been an accident."_

_A sudden cold chill overcame her at the nurse's words, and she slowly let her gaze travel to the small boy that was peering eagerly up at the take out menu on her fridge._

"_Miss Davis?"_

_Brooke cleared her throat, bringing her attention back to the phone call at hand. "Yeah, I'm still here," she said softly, turning her back and lowering her voice so Jamie wouldn't hear. "What do you mean an accident? Are they alright?"_

_The nurse hesitated on the other line. "There was car accident…Mr. and Mrs. Scott….well…The doctor thinks it best that you get to the hospital as soon as you can." _

_The burn of tears were present in her eyes, and Brooke bit down the frightened sob that she felt welling in her throat. She nodded, bringing a trembling hand up to her mouth as she replied that she'd be there as soon as possible. _

_In a daze, she hung up the phone, clenching her hand into a fist to stop the shaking. _

_This wasn't happening. This COULDN'T be happening. This was just some horrible, horrible mistake. Some case of mistaken identity. You heard about it on the news all the time._

_Brooke took a deep breath, swiping at the stray tears that slid down her cheeks. She smiled, walking into the kitchen and leaning down to talk to Jamie. "Hey, buddy…what do you say we go out, instead? Maybe Uncle Skills can come, too? Does that sound okay?"_

_Jamie shrugged, nodding. "I guess so. I like Uncle Skills. I guess he can come." His eager little face turned down in a frown when he noticed her red eyes. "Are you okay, Aunt Brooke?"_

_Brooke forced herself to smile, rubbing her hands up and down Jamie's arms. "I'm good, buddy. I'm just really hungry. Grab your coat. We'll call Uncle Skills on the way out."_

_000000_

"_This ain't happening."_

_Brooke looked over at Anton "Skills" Tanner in the seat next to her, his dark skinned face a shade lighter as he stared off into space. The waiting room of Tree Hill General Hospital was quiet, which seemed to only add to their fear and stress. _

_Jamie was sitting a couple seat down from them, his legs swinging back and forth as he contentedly ate the slice of pizza they'd picked up from the hospital cafeteria. If he was confused by the fact they were eating in a hospital, he didn't voice his concerns. _

_Brooke sighed, nodding her head. "Yeah," she said softly, running a hand through her dark hair. "You know, maybe this is some mistake. Right? I mean, it happens all the time. Licenses get mixed up, or a misprint on some form or something…I mean…it can happen, right?"_

_She was rambling, she knew. But even as she felt Skills take ahold of her hand, she knew that it was all pointless._

_There was no mistake._

_She groaned, shaking her head. "God, I wish someone would tell us something," she muttered, her eyes traveling to the lone nurse sitting behind the admissions desk. _

_They hadn't heard a word since they'd arrived at the hospital nearly 3 hours ago. Dr. Martin Castle—and salt-and-pepper haired man with tired eyes but a kind smile—had told them that Nathan and Haley's car had been hit by a pick-up truck operated by a man under the influence. Their car had fishtailed before flipping over into a ditch. First responders on the scene had told them Nathan was unconscious when they arrived, while Haley had been drifting in and out of it. They both had severe internal injuries and had been rushed to surgery where they were "going to do all they could," he'd told them quietly, his eyes taking in the oblivious little boy that had followed them inside. _

_Then he'd disappeared behind the swinging glass doors, leaving Brooke and Skills to worry and wait._

"_It's taking a long time," Skills commented, his brown eyes following hers to the doors in question. "That's a good sign, right?"_

_They both jumped to their feet when they caught sight of Dr. Castle sliding through the doors, removing the white paper mask from his face. His seasoned eyes sought them out in the sparsely populated room, and Brooke felt her heart stop at the look on his face. She turned to Skills, her eyes darting to Jamie. "Keep an eye on him," she whispered. "I'll go see what's going on."_

_Skills nodded, squeezing her hand reassuringly, before he moved towards Jamie, his face bursting into a goofy grin as he sunk down into the seat next to him._

_Brooke took a deep breath and made her way to the waiting doctor, every step making her heart race faster in her chest. God, please…if You're there and You're listening….please don't let this happen._

_She watched as Dr. Castle folded his arms across his broad chest, his eyes softening as she came to a stop in front of her. He was silent for a long moment, taking a deep breath before he shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry, Miss Davis," he said softly. "We lost them."_

_00000000_

We lost them.

Those would be the words that would haunt her until the day she died.

Those next few seconds had passed in her blur as her face had crumbled. She had vaguely made out the phrases "internal bleeding," "too much damage," and "severe blood loss." She'd forced her ears to shut out the details when he described the head injuries Haley had sustained from crashing through the windshield; the trauma Nathan had experienced when the airbag had failed to deploy.

She'd only been able to turn towards Skills and Jamie, and stare at them in agony. Skills had known from that first look at her face, and she'd watched the usually so stoic basketball player crumble before her eyes, his brawny arm wrapping around Jamie's shoulders as the boy stared up at him in confusion.

Their whole world had changed in that short instant.

And now here they were.

Brooke sighed, casting one last glance at the sleeping boy before she silently closed the door behind her, running her hand through her hair as she made her way towards her own bedroom. She flicked on the light switch as she shouldered open the door, squinting slightly as her eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. She flipped on the television as she crossed to her closet, pulling her shirt off over her head.

The late night news program was running coverage from the hit and run accident, and she turned to watch the young reporter give details that she knew all too well.

She'd heard about the other accidents lately, and knew of the rumors that were quickly spreading through the city. The words serial killer seemed to be a popular phrase nowadays. She'd learned not to jump to conclusions, though, until a member of the NYPD confirmed it.

The NYPD…

Her hand traveled to her back pocket, her fingers sliding the business card from between the folds of denim. The name Detective Donald Flack Jr. was printed in bold in the bottom corner, with the number she assumed was his station.

She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something in the detective's riveting blue eyes had captured her in their short exchange. She'd been surprised when the handsome man had talked to Jamie as if the four-year-old was a full-grown adult. He didn't talk to her over his head, or not meet his eyes when he asked him a question. He'd been friendly, and kind, seeming to know that the boy needed to be put at ease. His eyes had danced with laughter when Jamie had brought up Chester, the floppy eared bunny that was now housed in the corner of Jamie's room. He'd hung on Jamie's every word, never once brushing off his statements as delusions of a small child.

And then there was that shock…

She held up her right hand, moving her fingers slowly. She knew he had felt it too, by the surprised expression that had appeared on his handsome face. He'd stared into her eyes then, almost as if he was searching for something, before she'd turned away.

She didn't have time for those feelings right now. Not while she had Jamie.

Her gaze drifted to the business card again.

But those blue eyes of his were sure to be making an appearance in her dreams tonight.

00000000

The Hillstreet Diner was crowded with the evening dinner rush, the murmur of dozens conversation buzzing in Flack's ears as he stepped inside, shoving his keys deep into his pocket as he approached the counter. He caught the eye of the hostess, who smiled and held up a finger to indicate he should wait, and he nodded, taking the moment to rub the back of his tensed neck.

This hit-and-run spree was getting worse, and he was feeling the heat. The time in between attacks was getting shorter. It had been less than 72 hours after the attack outside Central Park, then another 48 before another victim piled up. Every accident was the same: a large, tinted vehicle sat idling in a parking spot before it roared after the victim as they were crossing a street.

The driver was getting more violent now, as well, also seeming to aim for other passerby's as he sped away. They had counted at least 4 injuries after the last casualty.

And still they were no closer to catching the son of bitch than they were two weeks ago.

Flack sighed, crossing his arms over his chest as he surveyed the packed diner. He'd be waiting awhile for his seat, he came to realize. Nearly every booth and stool was occupied. He could always eat back at his apartment, but he'd skipped lunch in order to interview a suspect, a lead that had led nowhere. If he ate at home, that would require a trip to the supermarket, followed by food preparation and all that goes along with it.

He was fine waiting for a spot to free up.

His eyes were drawn to a back corner booth on the opposite side of the diner, and he frowned as he studied the woman and child that were seated there.

"I'll be damned," he said under his breath, unable to help the smile that was tugging at the corner of his lips. Framed by a mess of dark curls, the hazel eyes that had plagued his thoughts for the last week were raising to meet his. He saw her head tilt slightly to the side as she looked at him, and he felt almost giddy when she smiled in recognition. She raised a hand in greeting, and he glanced back at the hostess, seeing her still engaged in conversation with one of the waitresses, before walking towards the corner booth.

"Well, hello there, Detective," Brooke said, smiling when he came to the edge of their seat.

Flack smiled, letting his eyes pass over her form fleetingly. She hadn't changed much in a week, but she sure as hell was prettier than he remembered. Her dark hair fell into curls over her shoulder tonight, seeming to stand out against the light green sweater than hugged her curves nicely. Her hazel eyes were shining as she looked up at him, and he realized that the dimples on each side of her cheek were so stunning he could barely wrap his head around it.

Across the booth from her, Jamie looked up at him, his smiling mouth smeared with chocolate ice cream. "Hi, Detective Flack," he said enthusiastically, waving an equally chocolate covered hand at him.

Flack laughed, reaching over to ruffle the boy's hair with his hand. "Hey, there, champ," he said, smiling, finding himself pleased that the boy had remembered his name. He let his gaze travel back to Brooke. "Miss Davis."

Brooke smiled, shaking her head slightly. "Brooke," she insisted.

"Don," he said in reply. "I'm surprised to see you two here. I'm assuming you've heard about the steak and cobbler this joint has, huh?"

Jamie shook his head before Brooke could answer. "Aunt Brooke broke the stove."

He laughed when Brooke looked at her nephew and arched an eyebrow, her lips turning into an affectionate smirk as she shook her head slowly back and forth. "Yikes…so she's treating you out some good old fashioned city cooking, then, huh?" Jamie nodded, turning back to his bowl of ice cream as he shoved a spoonful into his mouth. He turned his attention back to the pretty brunette, smiling.

"It's not as bad as it sounds," she said, rolling her eyes.

"You sure?" Don replied, smiling. "'Cause breaking the stove, that sounds pretty bad." She laughed, pushing a strand of hair behind her ears, and he felt his skin nearly tingle with the sound of it. What was it about this girl?

"Well, not every single girl can be a domesticated goddess like everybody thinks she should be," Brooke replied, shrugging helplessly even as a teasing smile worked its way across her face.

He tried not to let the term "single girl" get to him too bad as he nodded, pursing his lips. "Domesticated goddesses are over-rated, if you ask me. Now a girl that knows her way around a take-out menu, that's one to keep around. And by the way Jamie here is nodding, I'm guessing you lean more towards that direction," he said with a smile, sending the blonde haired kid a wink as he giggled at his aunt's mock-glare. He laughed. "Well, you chose a good place. Like I said, the steak and cobbler is something to write home about."

"Mmm. So you're picking up some after a hard day at the office, huh?" Brooke asked, folding her arms on the tabletop, her fingers tracing the edge of the plate before her, the grilled chicken half-eaten upon it.

"Eh, trying to," he said, his eyes scouring the diner once more. "Guess I forgot how packed this place gets around dinner. I'll be lucky to get a seat before they close up for the night."

Whatever Brooke's response to his observation was, it was cut off by the appearance of the harried hostess, her blonde ponytail bobbing as she came up to him. "Hey, sir, sorry about that," she said, smiling broadly as she looked at him. "It's a madhouse in here tonight. Um…I'm afraid there's going to be about a 20 minute wait for a seat…"

Flack nodded at the apologetic expression on the girl's face, and he opened his mouth to ask if carryout was a possibility when Brooke cleared her throat next to him.

"You know, we have room here," she said hesitantly, indicating the room on either side of the booth. "You're…welcome to join us…if you want." She arched an eyebrow. "You know…if you don't mind eating with a take-out menu kind of girl."

Flack shook his head at her, a wide smile spreading across his face. "You promise not to break the table next?" he asked.

Brooke laughed.

Oh, it was on.

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Flack grinned as he glanced over his shoulder, spotting Jamie's blond head peeking up from the booth two rows behind him, where'd he raced off to when a friend from dayschool has entered the diner 15 minutes ago. He couldn't help but laugh at the dopey faces he and his little friend were sending his way, and he shook his head when he turned back to look at Brooke.

She was laughing too, her gorgeous smile seeming to light up her entire face as she watched her nephew.

The magazine covers did not do her justice.

After their brief interview, Flack had wracked his brain, trying to remember where he'd seen the beautiful brunette before. Her eyes and smile had been so familiar to him, even though he knew he'd never stood face to face with her before that afternoon.

It wasn't until two days later, when he was interviewing a newsstand employee with Stella, that he spotted the magazine wedged between Vanity Fair and Vogue. Brooke Davis' smiling face had peered back at him from the cover of B. Davis, the official magazine of Clothes Over Bros., one of the leading fashion lines in New York City. He'd stood there gaping like a fool, baffled at how he'd never connected the woman he'd interviewed to the fashionista whose stores lined the streets of the city.

He had thought then and there that that was it. What were the odds he'd ever see Brooke Davis again?

And yet here he was, sitting in a booth across from the girl herself, and was actually having an enjoyable time.

"The kid's a pistol," he said, taking a drink of his Coke as he peered at her over the rim of his glass.

Brooke laughed, nodding. "This is nothing," she said, smiling. "You should see him after Saturday morning cartoons and two bowls of Frosted Flakes. For some reason, it gets his juices flowing." She shook her head. "His dad was the same way when we were kids, though, so I guess it shouldn't surprise me."

Flack nodded, drumming his fingers against the table as he caught the sad glint in her eyes. "I'm going to take a wild guess and say his parents aren't around?"

She met his gaze, nodding slowly, a sad smile on her face. "They died in a car crash last year," she said softly, tucking a strand of behind her ear, an action he noticed she did when she was uncomfortable or nervous. "I'm Jamie's godmother, so his custody was left to me."

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice soft with sympathy. "That's a tough break for the kid."

She shrugged, smiling. "He's tough. It took him a little while to understand that Nathan and Haley were gone, and not just on some vacation or something. He was sad…still is. But it's getting better for him, I think." She smiled when Jamie stuck his tongue out at her from behind his booth, laughing loudly when he ducked back down with his friend when she spotted him. "He didn't want to stay in Tree Hill after the accident, and I told him we could move anywhere he wanted. He chose New York, because he wanted to see the 'Emperor State Building.'" She chuckled. "Anyway, I lived here when I first started the company, so moving back wasn't a tough adjustment. A couple friends moved up here a few months ago, in part I think to help me out with him, but mostly because they missed him, I think. And he was thrilled to have his grandma and Uncle Skills around again, so…"

"Please tell me Skills is a nickname," he grinned.

"Yeah, it is," Brooke laughed, nodding. "Not really quite sure how it came about, but it sure stuck around. It helps having them here, though. I love Jamie more than anything, but when you're covered head to toe in spaghetti sauce after having just lost horribly in a game of silverware lightsaber dueling, those extra set of hands are a blessing in disguise."

Flack laughed, an image of Brooke and Jamie fighting in the kitchen with whisks and spatulas coursing through his head. "Man, who knew fashion designers led such glamorous lives as you do, huh?" he joked, watching as she smiled and tilted her head to the side.

"Ah, so the handsome detective follows the fashion trades, huh?"

He shook his head, smiling. "It took me awhile. I knew I'd seen you before, but I didn't realize just where until a few days later at a newsstand with a colleague of mine." He furrowed his brow, her statement finally reaching his mind. "Handsome?" He saw her pale cheeks turn pink with an embarrassed blush, and he grinned. "You hitting on me, there, Miss Davis?"

"No," she defended, smiling as a hand came up to cover her tinged cheek. "No, I was simply just making a statement. You can't tell me you missed the crushy eyes the hostess shot your way earlier."

He looked over at the hostess in question, catching her gaze as she stared at him, and she flashed a brilliant smile when she caught his eyes. He smiled, turning back in his seat to see Brooke smirking at him, her eyebrows raised.

"You can't tell me that's the first time something like that has happened. With your eyes? I bet you're the heartbreaker of the station, Detective Flack. Probably can't leave a single girl unaffected."

He grinned, tossing his elbow over the curve of the booth behind him. "How's it working on you?"

"Oooh, who's hitting on who, now?" she asked, laughing.

"Eh, why don't we call it a mutual thing and just skip ahead to where I ask you to dinner and you say yes?" The smile slipped from her face slightly, his words seeming to catch her off guard. "What, did the eyes stop working all of a sudden?"

Brooke chuckled, shaking her head as she dropped her gaze to her hands on the tabletop. "No, believe me, they're working," she said softly. She sighed, smiling at him again when she raised her head. "It's just…I don't want to push all this on you."

He frowned. "All what?"

She held up her hands. "This. The whole single-parent thing. It's a lot to ask somebody to accept, Don."

"Accept what? Jamie?" He glanced over his shoulder, where Jamie and his friend were now sitting contently on their knees in the booth, busily enthralled by a game of thumb wars. He turned back, meeting her gaze. "The kid's great, Brooke. I really can't remember the last time I've had as much fun as I've had with him. If he's the biggest thing I've got to adjust to with you…" He caught her brief smile, and he leaned his elbows against the table, tilting his head towards her. "You know, last week, I was convinced I was never going to see you again. And I was kicking myself for not doing anything before you rounded the corner that afternoon, disappearing into nowhere. And then, on a whim, I walk in here and there you are. Now, I don't know about you, but I think that it's a little more than coincidence. I mean, come on…out of every diner in the city, we both end up at the this one?

"You can't tell me you didn't feel that…whatever the hell it was…that afternoon we met." The way her face seemed to shift slightly, he knew she remembered it well. "Look…I'm out of my league here, Brooke. I don't know what's going on or not going on. I don't have the faintest clue in hell what it is about you that just…makes my head spin. But it does." He looked into her eyes then, still seeing the resistance warring within him. "I really want to know you, Brooke. I want to know you, and I want to know Jamie. And, as much as it pains me to say it, if you want to do it just as friends, then that's fine. But I'm really hoping you don't."

Brooke could feel her defenses weakening with every word he was speaking.

She was a liar if she said he hadn't plagued her thoughts just as much as he claimed she had. She could still remember that fierce tingling that had lasted in her fingers for what seemed like hours after she'd gotten home from the park that day. She still felt the ridiculous smile she'd worn every time Jamie talked about the "awesome" detective that talked to him about Chester and superheroes, and called him champ. Or the way she'd stared at that business card on her bedside table every day for the last week, her fingers itching to dial the phone and hear his voice again. And feeling unbelievably foolish, considering that her interaction with the man had been minimal; a few minutes at best.

But, as he had pointed out, now here she sat.

And, as she'd come to find out the last few years, she didn't believe in coincidences.

She smiled, rolling her eyes. "Like I said. No girl left unaffected." She laughed when his boyish grin spread across his face again, and she couldn't help but shake her head. "Jesus, you'd think you'd just won the lottery with that grin."

Flack shrugged, realizing at that moment just how much he loved her smile and her laugh. "For all I know, I just did."

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**So yeah, this story has gotten a bigger reception than I honestly thought it would. :-)**

**I think I'm going to continue on with it, because I'm loving Brooke and Flack together. Thanks for not flaming me or anything with the revelation that Nathan and Haley died. I promise that we'll get more into that in a couple chapters, but I just wanted to kind of set up the opening for the rest of the story.**

**Anyway, let me know what you guys think!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Take Me or Leave Me**

**A.N. Once again…I own nothing.**

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First date jitters. Jesus, when was the last time he suffered from first date jitters?

Flack was almost embarrassed to admit he had butterflies with every step he took towards Brooke Davis' apartment complex. Butterflies…he nearly scoffed at the idea. Here he was, a seasoned officer of the law, a decorated homicide detective, who possessed more battle scars than he really cared to remember, and he actually nervous about walking into a building and the date that was to follow.

Good God, Messer would get a hell of a kick out of this.

Not that he was ever going to mention it to him. Not if he ever wanted a moments peace again.

He pulled open the large glass door to led to the apartment lobby, and he ran a hand unconsciously through his hair as he made his way to the security desk.

An older man sat behind a row of monitors, the gray and black security guard uniform he wore nearly matching perfectly with the shade of his hair. His brown eyes were scanning the small television screens dutifully, before the sound of his footsteps made him look up. A polite smile creased the corners of his tanned face as he stood up, his hands coming to rest on the radio and Billy club attached the belt around his waist. "Evening," he said.

Flack nodded at him, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "How ya doing?" he asked. "Brooke Davis?"

The man smiled, nodding his head in sudden understanding. "Ah…you must be the detective?" He laughed when the younger man frowned in confusion. "Son, you wouldn't believe the amount of talking that little boy does about you. Miss Davis nearly has to drag him away from here, and he'll still be yammering the whole time." Don laughed, shaking his head. "You've made quite an impression, might I say. I listened for ten whole minutes this morning about how you were coming to see him. I came to the conclusion on my own that you were really coming to see his aunt, but I didn't have the heart to tell him so."

Don shrugged, smiling. "Hey, I'm pretty excited to see Jamie, too. The kid grows on you, I'm learning."

"You really have no idea," the guard said, chuckling. "Miss Davis is on floor 12, apartment 17."

Flack nodded his thanks, bidding the friendly guard farewell as he turned back to his project at hand, and making his way to the elevator. He hit the button for the 12th floor, and leaned back against the elevator wall as the machine slowly made its climb upwards. He couldn't help but smile at the words of the security guard. He had to admit, he was glad he'd left an impression of little Jamie. The kid was something else. He wasn't sure when he'd ever had more fun than that time he'd spent in the diner. Brooke had a big part to play in that, but the other part was all Jamie. He'd laughed and smiled in that hour and a half more than he could remember at any point in the last year.

Smiles and laughs with Jess gone had been few and far between, but now….

Now maybe he had a reason to smile and laugh again.

He looked up at the ding from the elevator as it reached its destination, and he pushed away from the wall and made his way down the hallway. The walls were painted a deep tan color, meshing well with the dark brown color of the carpet and ceilings. And he smirked when he remembered Jamie referring to the hallway as the "Reese hallway," and how every time he got home, he was always craving one of the little chocolate bars.

His eyes traveled to the gold plated numbers on each other apartment doors, and he slowed his steps as he came to the one adorning the number 17. He found himself letting out a pent up breath as he raised his fist and rapped three times on the hardwood door.

"He's here!"

The excited exclamation was muffled from inside, but he couldn't help but grin when he recognized Jamie's voice. He could hear the stampede of small feet heading for the door, followed by more mild ones, and an unfamiliar female voice saying, "Jamie, calm down." The door rattled then at the force of something slamming into it, and he couldn't help the chuckle that passed his lips as the doorknob rattled and turned quickly. It flew open, revealing the grinning face of blond haired Jamie Scott, his bright blue eyes shining up at him. "Hi, Detective Flack!"

Don smiled, leaning down into a crouch so he was eye level with the boy. "Well, hey there, Jamie," he said, reaching out to bump his fist against Jamie's much smaller one. He grinned at the look of pure pride on the kid's face at the gesture. "How's my favorite guy doing?"

Jamie's head bobbed in a nod. "I'm good," he said, smiling. "Did you see why I like to eat a Reese cup every time I walk down the hallway?"

"I sure did," he replied, glancing over his shoulder. "Gotta tell ya, it makes me hungry for one, too."

"I thought it would. That's why I got some out of the cupboard before you got here. Come on!"

Don laughed when Jamie grabbed his hand and started pulling him inside, minding to catch the door shut on his way. He grinned as he watched Jamie's sock-clad feet slide through the room as he maneuvered his way to the kitchen. He waved towards the blond haired woman standing by the loveseat as he went, looking over his shoulder. "This is my Grandma Deb."

"NANNY Deb," the woman corrected with a smile, craning her neck to keep an eye on the boy as he disappeared around a corner. She shook her head, turning back to him as she took a step forward, extending her hand. "Deb Scott."

Flack took ahold of her hand. "Don Flack," he said, smiling as he took her in. He supposed he could see why she preferred to be called 'nanny' as opposed to 'grandma.' She didn't look much older than Mac, the few wrinkles on her face not indicating she was over 50. Long blond hair landed in curls around her shoulders, her pink blouse revealing a figure he had to admit wasn't bad for an older woman. Her smile was polite and kind as she looked at him, and he couldn't help but notice that her eyes were the same as Jamie's.

"Well, I have to say that it's nice to finally meet you," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're all I've heard about for the last week or so. I don't think I've seen Jamie this excited since Brooke took him to see The Lion King on Broadway two months ago. Back then, all I heard about was Pumba the pig for weeks at a time. I can proudly say that tales of the detective that said his cape was cool is a welcome change in conversation."

Flack laughed, grinning. "Well, I'm glad I could be of service ma'am," he said, shaking his head. He raised his eyebrows when Jamie came sliding back into the room, a bag of Reese cup miniatures in his hand. He held one out to him, and Don took with a smile. "Thanks, buddy."

"Brooke is just finishing up," Deb said, nodding her head towards the hallway behind her. "She should only be a few minutes."

Don nodded as he popped the small chocolate into his mouth before Jamie grabbed his hand again.

"Do you want to come see my room?" he asked, grinning up at him in anticipation.

"Jamie, sweetie, I'm sure Detective Flack—"

"Nah, it's fine," he cut Deb off, smiling. "Lead the way, champ."

From her bedroom, Brooke could hear Jamie gabbering away as she led Don to his bedroom down the hall from hers, his excited chatter bringing a smile she couldn't fight to her face.

She'd had misgiving after she left the diner that night, her promise of dinner with Don making her stomach curl up in knots. She was worried about getting involved with someone when she and Jamie were still somewhat trying to find their footing together. For the last 12 months, she'd dedicated every second she could to the little boy her best friends had entrusted her with. She'd downsized the company significantly, a move that many people—including some of her investors—had vehemently argued against. She took a hit in the Trades for a few months afterwards, but helping Jamie adjust to the major changes in his life had been the only thought in her head. Now the company was back on its feet, and she had enough time to be able to be home with Jamie every night, and see him off to school every morning.

And then Don blew into her life, and now she was torn between what she was starting to feel for him and what she desperately felt for her godson. She didn't want him to get attached to Don, and then be heartbroken if it didn't work out between them.

But hearing the way he was going on and on as he drew Don into his room, she knew that it was a little too late to worry about their attachment.

She liked Don Flack. A lot, she was realizing. She liked the way he smiled at her, and the way his blue eyes seemed to almost sparkle when he laughed. She liked the way he didn't treat Jamie like he was a nuisance. She liked the way his broad shoulders and chest filled out his shirt and jacket, and the way his tall frame towered over her when he stood next to her at her car that night.

She realized, with a smile, that there wasn't a lot about Don Flack so far that she DIDN'T like.

Grabbing her sweater from the foot of her bed, she opened her bedroom door and turned down the hallway, stopping just outside of the door to Jamie's room as she eavesdropped.

"This is a cool spread, you've got here, Jamie," Don said, his eyes scouring all the basketball jerseys and sports posters tacked to the walls, while his hands twisted a small basketball in his hands.

"Yeah, it's pretty cool," Jamie seconded, his feet swinging back and forth as he sat on his bed, watching the older man with near reverence. "Aunt Brooke helped me decorate everything, so it kind of looks like my old room back in Tree Hill. There's some different stuff, too, though. She said she wanted to make sure this was a boys only zone, but I told her it was okay if she came in sometimes, 'cause she's a girl."

Don smirked a little at his statement, and he walked over to peer down at a picture on Jamie's bedside table. Jamie was wedged in between two people, who he assumed were his parents, given the way he was grinning at them and they were looking at him lovingly. He saw the boy's smile mirrored in Haley's, and his blue eyes were nearly identical to Nathan's, leading him to believe that Deb was, indeed, Nathan's mother. The picture didn't look as if it had been taken too long ago, and he wondered if it was one of the last ones they had taken together before the accident.

"That's momma and daddy," Jamie informed him, hopping off the bed to stare down at the picture with him.

"It is, huh?" he asked, running his hand over the boy's hair as he looked down at him. "I heard about your parents, buddy. I'm sorry to hear about it."

Jamie shrugged. "It's okay," he said softly. "Aunt Brooke says they're in Heaven watching over me, where Momma is singing with the angels and Daddy is playing basketball with my great Uncle Keith. Daddy was a good basketball player, you know. He was going to be in the NBA one day." He looked over his shoulder before smiling up at him. "Do you want to meet Chester?" he asked, racing over to cage across the room.

Don watched him kneel down next to the small wire cage, awed once more at the resilience of children. It never ceased to amaze him how they could bounce back, no matter what horrible things they may have seen. He set the basketball on the table next to him before he made his way over, kneeling down next to him. "How ya doing, Chester?" he asked, smiling. "I've heard a lot about you."

Jamie giggled, smiling at him, before looking over his shoulder towards the door. "Hi, Aunt Brooke."

Don turned his head, his eyes traveling to the open doorway, and he couldn't help the way his breath caught in his throat when he saw Brooke standing there.

How the woman got prettier each time he saw her was a mystery to him.

She wore a deep blue dress that fell to her knees, a pair of equally dark heels on her feet. The dress' neckline gave him the slightest peek at her cleavage, enough to have him guessing but keeping her classy at the same time. Her long dark hair fell over her shoulders in gentle curls, framing her face in a way that made her seem…angelic, almost. Her ruby red lips were upturned in a smile as she took in the sight of them, and he realized now more than ever that he had to know this woman.

"Giving Don the grand tour of place, Jame?" she asked, stepping into the room, a black sweater draped over her crossed arms.

Don rose to his feet, a smile spreading across her face as she walked up to them.

"Yep, I'm showing him my jerseys and introducing him to Chester," Jamie answered, jumping to his feet and racing over to his aunt, wrapping an arm around her leg in a hug. Her hand came to rest upon his shoulder as she squeezed it affectionately.

"Ah, Chester," she said, smiling down at Jamie before she looked at Don. "He's the real decision maker of the family."

Flack grinned. "You don't say?"

"Mmmhmmm. He's the big honcho around here. Which, by the way, Jamie, he and I were talking earlier, and he mentioned something about not getting fed today…"

Jamie sighed at her side, hanging his head as he looked at his rabbit. "He always tells on me."

Don laughed as the boy trudged back to the cage, and he shook his head as he turned back to look at Brooke again. "You look…wow."

She smiled, ducking her head slightly at the comment. "Thanks," she said, nodding. "You too."

And he did. Dressed in a pair of dark dress slacks and a white button up shirt, the word "dashing" popped into her head as she looked him over. She was suddenly finding all the arguments against getting involved with Don Flack becoming very null and void.

"Can I stay up until you get home, Aunt Brooke?"

They both turned to look down at the young boy as he came back to their side, and Brooke shrugged. "That's up to Nanny Deb, buddy," she said, smiling. "But if she says you can, then I don't see why not."

Jamie smiled at her as he raced from the room, yelling for his grandma, leaving the two of them to smile and chuckle at his enthusiasm.

"Man, just watching him makes me tired," Don laughed, motioning with his hand for her to lead the way out of the room. "I don't know how you do it."

She grinned at him, shrugging. "Lots of caffeine."

He chuckled at her answer, and let his gaze travel across the apartment as he followed her back into the living room. He took in the soft, feminine touches of the apartment, noticing how traces of Jamie were thrown in as well. Coloring books were sitting next to the pile of fashion magazines on the table. Disney DVDs were stacked next to Audrey Hepburn flicks and classic movie selections. There was a small basketball hoop in the corner by a large fern plant, its net capturing the miniature basketball in its grasp. The large, silver refrigerator was covered with various hand drawn pictures and snapshots, cataloguing the last year of Brooke and Jamie's lives.

He smiled when he saw Jamie and Deb sitting on the couch, Jamie's eyes suddenly transfixed on Finding Nemo that playing on the TV against the wall. His mouth was hanging open in the sidetracked way kids tended to watch TV, his small hands mechanically unwrapping one of the Reese candies that were spread on the coffee table in front on him.

Deb rose from her seat on the couch as they came into the room, smiling as she glanced back at Jamie. "I told him he could wait up for you if he can make it through the next three Disney cartoons," she said, laughing. "I doubt he'll make it past A Bug's Life, so no need to worry."

Brooke nodded as she looked past her to Jamie, smiling softly. "Thanks for watching him tonight, Deb."

"Oh, anytime, sweetie," the blond said, Flack not missing the way her gaze seemed to rake over him from the corner of her eyes as she smirked. "The two of you just worry about having a good time."

He smiled at the suggestion in her voice, and he glanced over at Brooke to see her rolling her eyes and shooting the older woman a warning glare. He chuckled under his breath, unable to deny how their interaction amused him. He moved to the door as Brooke walked to the couch, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to Jamie's head as she told him to behave and listen to Nanny Deb. The boy nodded and waved a hand absentmindedly, his gaze still focused on the television.

Don frowned when Brooke walked over to him, shrugging his shoulders. "What, I don't even get a goodbye?"

Brooke shrugged, patting a hand against his chest as she reached around for the doorknob. "When it comes to Doree, even I get replaced," she laughed, shaking her head as she waved a farewell to Deb.

Don shrugged, nodding in agreement, before smiling at Deb. He wasn't completely sure, but he could swear that before he turned and closed the door behind him, the woman had sent him a wink and thumbs up.

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Any jitters that Flack had felt before the date that night had all but faded by the time they hit the little Italian restaurant on 32nd Street. They'd been drowned out by the sound of her voice; her laughter, and by the way her smile spread across her flawless face.

They'd sat in a small corner booth, Don smiling when the owner—an old friend of his father's—came out to give him a warm hug and inquire to the identity of his lovely companion. Brooke had taken the man's attentions with class, smiling and laughing as she engaged him in conversation, her hazel eyes seeming to shine despite the dim lighting. He'd merely stood to the side and watched her, smiling as she held her own against the ornery old man, her brown hair bouncing against her shoulders with every laugh.

Antonio had left with a broad grin, and after shooting a proud wink in Don's direction, had a waiter bring out a bottle of wine on the house. They'd sat down to a meal of pasta and baked ziti, their conversation ranging from their childhoods to their careers.

Brooke talked about growing up in the small town of Tree Hill, North Carolina, where everything revolved around the Ravens basketball team, of which Jamie's father, Nathan, had been the star player and captain. She explained how it was Haley that had encouraged her to start Clothes Over Bros., and how she'd traveled to New York after graduation. He'd laughed at the way she described the culture shock when she'd spent her first weekend here, recounting her horrific tale of hailing a taxi in a torrential downpour. She told him that she had returned to Tree Hill five years later when her friend Peyton needed some kind of help, and that she had ended up staying longer than she'd planned when she realized just how much she had missed her small hometown, but she'd gladly moved back when Jamie announced it made him sad to stay in the place where so many memories of his parents still resided.

Don talked about his childhood in the city, playing on neighborhood hockey and basketball teams with his older brother, Thomas. He told her about the three generations of police officers in his family that had led him to join the academy himself, and about his time on the force as he worked his way up to Homicide Detective. He talked about his work with New York Crime Lab, and the friendships he had with the people he worked with. She'd laughed at some of the stories he told about Danny, and had looked at him in near awe at some of the cases he'd detailed for her. He left out any mention of Jessica Angell, not quite ready to bring up the one woman before her that could leave his head spinning.

It was nearly midnight before he got her back to her apartment complex, the two of them waving a hello at the security guard—Cliff—behind the desk as they walked in. They stood in silence as they rode up in the elevator together, Don taking the time to look at her from the corner of his eyes. She was so much more complex than just a pretty face on a magazine cover. She was smart on top of being beautiful, with such a big heart, he thought it would give Lindsey Monroe a run for her money. She seemed very wise beyond her years, a trait he had learned tonight came from having to fend for herself at a young age, followed by going from single girl to single parent overnight years later. He couldn't believe that all the years she'd been in New York—all the times he'd passed by this very same complex day in and day out—that his path hadn't crossed with her before last week.

The ding indicating they'd reached the 12th floor pulled his attention away, and he smiled as he motioned for her to proceed him into the hallway. They walked side by side down the hallway, their hands barely grazing with each step they took.

Brooke turned to him when they reached her door, and she smiled up at him as she swiped at a strand of hair that fell into her eyes.

He nodded to the closed door. "You think Jamie made it through the Disney marathon?" he asked, smiling.

Brooke laughed softly. "I'll be surprised if Deb isn't sprawled across the couch when I get inside," she said, shaking her head. "She likes to pretend she's the hip nanny, but she can barely stay up past 11:30 anymore." She smiled, shifting the jacket on her arm. "So…thank you…for being so…"

"Pushy?" he offered, smiling when she laughed.

"Sure, pushy works," she replied, running a hand through her hair. "But no, just for, um…insisting, I guess. I had a really good time. The best time I've had in a while, actually."

Don nodded, shrugging his shoulders. "A good enough time that you'd be up to it again?" he fished, smiling when her lips turned up into a smirk. "Hey, it's like I told you, Davis. You're not gettin' rid of me that easy."

Brooke shook her head, her shoulder leaning against the door next to her as she looked up at him. "You mean I haven't scared you off yet, Detective? What with my glamorous lifestyle of play dates and hectic scheduling?" She saw the way the smile seemed to slowly fade from his face, and his eyes seemed to darken as he bowed his head closer to hers.

"Does this seem like you've scared me off?" he said softly, reaching up to cup her cheek in his hands before he pressed his lips gently against hers.

She let out a small breath against his lips as she reached her arm to wrap around his neck, raising slightly on her toes as she deepened the kiss.

The shock she'd felt every time their hands touched was nothing compared to what she felt kissing him.

She could feel the spark shoot to the very tips of her toes. Her lips parted slightly, granting him access as his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close against his broad chest, his hands spreading across the expanse of her back. She sighed against him, her hand tangling itself into the collar of his shirt as he pulled away, his breath warm against her cheek as she opened her eyes to stare into his.

"Guess not," she said softly.

Don laughed, shaking his head as he pressed another featherlight kiss against her lips. "Trust me. It takes a hell of a lot more."

Brooke nodded, smiling, and glanced at the door again. "I'd, um…I'd invite you in, but…"

He nodded, shrugging. "Maybe next time," he said, smiling when she nodded. He leaned down, pressing his lips to her cheek. "I'll give you a call tomorrow. We can set up date number two."

"Maybe even date number three," she added as he turned to leave.

Don laughed, spinning on his heel to look back at her as he walked backwards towards the elevator. "Whoa, there, doll," he joked, grinning. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves here. We haven't even gotten to covering sports yet. I've gotta make sure your priorities are straight on that."

He sent her a wink when she laughed at him, her hazel eyes twinkling as she smiled at him, her hand turning the doorknob behind her as he stepped into the waiting elevator. She raised a hand in a wave to him, her head tilting the side as she watched his smiling face disappear behind the sliding doors, before she turned and walked into the apartment.

The lights were dim, the television a low murmur in the background as she tossed her jacket over the coat rack, her eyes traveling to the couch across the room. Slipping off her shoes, she tip-toed over, shaking her head with a smile as she caught sight of Deb's sleeping form, a blanket tossed over her waist and legs as her blond hair was spread across the pillow. Snatching the remote off the coffee table, Brooke shut off the TV, looking over when the action jarred the older woman from her slumber. Brooke smiled, setting the remote back down.

"Mmmm, how was your date with the handsome detective," Deb asked, her voice thick with sleep, her lips turned up into a knowing smile.

Brooke laughed, shrugging. "There'll be a date two, if that's what you're asking," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Deb chuckled, her eyes heavy. "Do me a favor and have him over again, Brooke," she said. "Don Flack is the best thing I've seen in quite a while."

Rolling her eyes, Brooke shook her head, reaching down to pat the woman's leg over the blanket. "Whatever, you crazy cougar," she said affectionately, smiling. "Hey, take the couch tonight. It's too late for you to drive home. I'll see you in the morning, okay?" Already half-asleep, Deb murmured her agreement, and Brooke turned on her heel to head down the hallway. She stopped at the half closed door that led to Jamie's room, and she silently slipped inside, quietly walking to her godson's bedside.

Jamie was curled onto his side, his face a mask of serenity as he dreamed whatever dreams his mind conjured up.

She smiled, reaching down to pull the blankets up to his chin, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. He shifted in his sleep, his hand coming to curl up against the pillow under his head.

"Night, JimJam," Brooke said quietly, turning off the bedside lamp next to him, before she headed to her own room, anxious thoughts of Don Flack clouding her mind as she closed the door behind her.

**000000000**

**For real? I've got a crazy happy grin on my face for some reason as I'm writing this chapter. I'm loving Flack and Brooke right now. Seriously.**

**Hopefully you guys are too! Let me know what you think! You know what they say: Reviews are love. :-)**

**Until next time!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Take Me or Leave Me**

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"That is one goofy grin on your face there, Flack."

Don couldn't help but roll his eyes at the amused tone in Danny Messer's voice as he walked into the break room of the Crime Lab. Hell, he couldn't deny it. That "goofy" grin had been a permanent fixture on his face since he'd left Brooke Davis' apartment building last night. Just the memory of his lips touching hers could spring it back to life.

"What? You're not gonna share?" Danny pressed, his grizzled face smirking at him from his place against the counter, a coffee mug in his hand.

Next to him, Stella Bonasera peered over her shoulder, a frown marring her lovely face. "Share what?"

Before he could even open his mouth to reply, Danny grinned. "Flack had a hot date with an equally hot fashion designer last night."

Stella smiled, her eyes going wide with acknowledgement. "Ahhh…Brooke Davis? I'm only guessing here, of course, but I did notice the way you were gawking at her magazine the other day." She turned around, lifting her steaming coffee mug to her lips as she raised her eyebrows. "So come on, Flack. I'm a little interested to hear the details as well."

"Yeah, well, sorry to disappoint, but I don't kiss and tell," Flack said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Hear that, Stell, there was a _kiss_," Danny said, nudging the woman next to him with his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, but is this not a professional environment anymore? Geez, you'd think we didn't have a road-raging psycho on the loose, huh?"

Stella and Danny both grinned as they shoved away from the counter, Danny reaching out and patting his shoulder as he passed. "So you'll tell me later over a beer?"

Flack rolled his eyes and gave his friend a shove out the door, turning to meet Stella's gaze as she stopped before him.

"It's good to see you smile again, Don," she said, smiling as she nodded, her brown curls bouncing lightly with the movement. "This Brooke…she must be something special."

Flack grinned. "I'm starting to think so."

"Well, that's good. You'll have to bring her around when you find out for sure." Her lips puckered for a moment as her head of curls tilted to the side in thought, nodding. "Maybe you can swing me a great deal on shoes while you're at it."

Don laughed, shaking his head. "Glad I can be of service, Stell," he said, turning on his heel and striding into the hallway, aware of the self-assuring pat the older woman gave his back as she passed him.

He'd put his team through the wringer those first few months after Angell died. Between flaking his shifts, his drinking, and the various womanizing he did on the side, he was amazed he even had a team to come back to after Mac whipped him back into shape that afternoon at Terrance's apartment. It was an understatement when he said he was relieved there was no judgment from his friends. They didn't confront him about it or scold him. They didn't remind him everyday that he'd pretty much failed as a cop there for awhile. Instead, they just welcomed him back. They'd told him again and again how great it was to have the old Don making an appearance, and how, sooner or later, things were going to start looking up for him.

He smiled.

Maybe now he could tell them that things finally were.

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Brooke's heels clicked on the tile floor as she made her way down the hallway towards her office in Clothes Over Bros., balancing a large sketchpad and a cup of coffee in her hands as she smiled kindly at the receptionist behind the front desk.

She'd forgotten all about Jamie's play date after day school today until her young godson had reminded her on the way out the door. She'd silently cursed in her head as she took a different route than their usual, speeding into a little bakery bistro she'd come to love during her years living in New York. Holding onto Jamie's hand, they'd rushed inside and quickly picked out a batch of chocolate brownies for him to take with him, while also grabbing a large powdered donut because she was completely unable to deny the little boy's bright eyes as he pressed his face against the glass case.

So now she was hurrying down the hallway, her eyes glancing at the clock on the wall as she whirled the corner and pushed open the door to her office. She plopped her belongings onto her slightly cluttered desk, a smile of triumph on her face as she raised the cup to her lips.

Three minutes to spare.

She really was becoming a pro at this.

Sighing, she slid down into her leather chair, swiping a flyaway bang from her eyes as she powered up her computer and reached for the stack of memos that sat on the corner of her desk, Calliope's calligraphy handwriting nearly glaring up at her from the bright purple paper.

Calliope certainly wasn't near as great an assistant as Millicent had been, but she had her finer points.

She sighed, leaning back in her chair as she skimmed the small pile in her hands. Reminder of Macy's meeting, fabric conference with the distributers from Chicago, reminder of Jamie's 6 month check up…

"All work, no play," Brooke muttered softly, tossing the memos onto her desk as she leaned back, running a hand down her face. Her fingers came to rest on her lips, and she couldn't help the smile that spread across her face.

Well…maybe not ALL no play.

The memory of Don's lips pressed against hers was still fresh in her mind; the feeling of his hands around her waist, the smell of his cologne as he'd pulled her closer. The butterflies in her stomach were still a very strong presence, and she couldn't help the giddiness she felt as she thought back over last night.

A quick knock on the door to her office shook her out of her daze, and she snapped her eyes open to see Calliope hovering in the doorway, her young face holding a rather anxious expression as she looked at her.

Frowning, Brooke sat up. "What is it?"

Calliope stepped into the office, her purple pencil skirt devoid of a single wrinkle, shirt perfectly aligned, shoes nearly shining, and Brooke wondered again why she tried so hard to appear professional. She didn't consider herself a hard-ass boss. On the contrary, she thought she was pretty fair. She divided the work up evenly among her staff, taking their ideas and criticism with grace, even going so far as to feature some of their designs in her lines.

She liked Calliope, but at times she wished the young girl would just relax a little and enjoy herself more.

"Um, Brooke…there's a police officer on line one for you," she said softly, her brown eyes darting to the phone on the desk, where a small red light was blinking, indicating a held call. "He didn't mention what it was in regards to, but he said it was rather urgent. Something about not giving up easy until you spoke to him."

A smile crept its way across Brooke's face as her assistant rambled on, Don's voice repeating in her head that he didn't give up easy.

Well, he did say he would call her today….

Clearing her throat, she wiped the smile from her face, raising her eyes to meet Calliope's. "Thank you, Calliope," she said softly, scooting her chair closer towards the desk as she let her hand rest on the phone. She arched an eyebrow. "I think I can handle it. I'm sure it's just about an unpaid parking ticket or something silly like that."

She watched as the young girl nodded quickly and turned out of the office, shutting the door behind her. By the way she looked over her shoulder as she headed down the hallway, Brooke was sure the phone call from the NYPD was going to be the gossip at the water cooler.

Rolling her eyes, she picked up the phone, hitting the annoying red button as she settled back into her seat. "Brooke Davis," she said in her best Working Woman tone she could muster, her lips turning up into a smile when she heard Don's deep chuckle on the other end.

"Do I have a way of cutting red tape or what?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "Well, you certainly have my assistant quaking in her designer shoes," she said, her eyes peering down the hallway to see Calliope engaged in a feverish conversation with one of the computer analysts. "Before too long, the whole office will be talking about my infamous talk with the NYPD and wonder just what I did to warrant such a call in the first place. Best gossip they'll have had all month."

He winced playfully. "Yikes, that's the best gossip they've got? You must be one pretty lame celebrity, if that's the case."

Brooke chuckled, cradling the phone in the crook of her shoulder as she moved to straighten the small disaster area that was her desk. "So to what do I owe the pleasure, Detective Flack?"

"Missed the sound of your voice," he said, and she could see him shrugging in that adorable way she noticed he did when he was flirting. She grinned, unable to stop the sudden blush she could feel overtaking her face. "I was hoping maybe we could do date number two tonight."

"What did you have in mind?"

"You, me, and Jamie," he said. "I've got a feeling that I need to prove I'm way cooler than some cartoon fish on the TV." She could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke, his obvious fondness for her godson already evident in his tone. "So, I'm thinking the three of us, a couple slices of the city's best, a good bottle of wine, apple juice for the kid. Maybe a little touchy-feely when he's not lookin'."

"Oooh," she laughed, shaking her head. "You say the sweetest things to me, Don Flack."

"You ain't heard nothing yet, doll. So what do you say?"

Brooke bit her bottom lip as she raised her eyes to the ceiling, twirling a piece of dark hair in her fingers. "Hmmm. Pizza, wine, with a possibility of touchy-feely? What girl can say no to that?"

Don laughed. "None that I'd care to meet." He was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. "By the way, you look beautiful today."

"Oh, yeah? And how would you know that? You got an officer tailing me?"

"Nope," he said, his lips popping the 'p' as she heard the grin in his voice. "But you've never looked anything less than dazzling since the day I met you, so I'm taking a wild guess." He heard her quiet, embarrassed laugh, and he grinned. "Told ya you hadn't heard anything yet."

"Comments like that could definitely guarantee you some touchy-feely moments tonight, Detective," Brooke said, smiling when she heard his deep chuckle, and she couldn't help the warmth that was slowly spreading across her cheeks.

"Are you completely degenerate? I said a 3 inch belt. The models are going to look like Howdy Doody!"

Brooke's gaze jerked up at the sound of the angry outburst, and she bit back a groan when she spotted the middle aged brunette woman heading towards her office, a look of furious determination on her face. She watched as Victoria spun on her heel, snarling some degrading comment towards the poor assistant flanking her heels, and she sighed, settling back in her chair with resignation.

"Everything alright?" Don asked, apparently noticing her sudden change in mood.

"Yeah," Brooke said, swiping at a stray hair on her forehead. "You think your job is dangerous, try living in the fashion world for a day. I've got a catfight to break up. Believe me, I'd much rather continue talking to you and hearing more of those nice things you've been saying to me."

"Trust me, Brooke Davis, you'll be hearing plenty of them tonight," Don said, causing the smile on her face to burst to life once more. "Go take care of your fashion catfight. I'll grab some Luigi's and be over at your place around 7."

"Sounds like a plan," Brooke replied. "Though I will warn you, Jamie is a pizza Casanova. It takes one hell of a pizza to impress him, and even then it barely compares to the pizza heaven that resides back in Tree Hill."

"I accept your challenge. The kid's going down. No one can deny that Luigi's is the best damn pizza in the city. Just you wait."

Brooke laughed, shaking her head. "Okay, Mr. Bad Cop. We'll see you and the 'best damn pizza' tonight."

They said their goodbyes, silly, nonsense goodbyes that left her smiling, and she replaced the phone back into its cradle, her heart seeming to flutter in her chest at just the thought of the handsome detective that had been on the other line.

Her good mood dissipated, however, when the door to her office slammed open.

Sighing she raised her eyes to meet the furious gaze of her mother, nodding over Victoria's shoulder that Calliope could leave. The young woman nodded once, casting one more terrified glance at the older woman's back, before she turned on her heel and nearly raced down the hallway.

"Yes, Victoria?"

"Please tell me this is some kind of joke," Victoria said, her arms crossed over her chest as she moved further into the room.

They looked alike, Brooke realized once again. The same dark hair, the same pale skin. Their eyes were nearly identical, but while hers were warm and welcoming, Victoria's was cold and malicious. After all, cold and malicious was what Victoria Davis did best.

Growing up, all Brooke had ever wanted was her mother's approval. Each of her actions throughout the years at Tree Hill High School were vain attempts at gaining it, and with each attempt she was met with bitter disappointment. It wasn't until she had started Clothes Over Bros. that Victoria had even shown any interest in her life.

At the time, Brooke had been so desperate for any kind of attention from her mother, she let her talk her into becoming partners in the company.

She didn't realize just how much Victoria had overtaken until she'd driven away Rachel, her friend from high school who had been battling detox at the time. It was then that she realized Victoria didn't care about her at all. She just wanted the company, and she would do anything to keep anyone she deemed a 'threat' away.

So Brooke fired her.

Somewhere along the way, after Nathan and Haley's accident and she'd moved back to New York with Jamie, she and Victoria had come to a kind of truce. Brooke knew she needed the help with the company now that she had Jamie to take care of. She also knew that, as resentful as she may be of her, Victoria was good at her job.

She'd been hired back on as a CEO, though her power in the company was greatly reduced. The fact that she now reported to Millicent was a fact Victoria loathed with a vengeance.

"Clarify for me, Victoria," Brooke said, leaning back in her chair.

"Please tell me that the frumpy little friend of yours that you mistakenly promoted to VP—I pray, at least—is in charge of the Milan deal. You remember? The multi-thousand dollar Milan deal."

Brooke smirked, shaking her head. "MILLICENT—who is not frumpy—is in charge of the Milan deal. She knows the briefs backwards, she knows the ropes, and she can do the job. There is a reason she is VP, despite what you might think. So no, it is not a joke, and before you ask, yes, I fully intend to let her go to Milan to ink the deal. Because, once again, she is the VP. FYI."

Victoria sighed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I think we can do without the attitude, Brooke," she said, rolling her eyes as she sat down in the chair before Brooke's desk. "It truly doesn't matter what I think, because you are the boss, after all. I just wanted to double check and see if perhaps you'd come to a different conclusion. Which you haven't, obviously. So it's dropped." She leaned against the armrest, her hand tangling itself in her hand, and she frowned when she spotted the surprised look on Brooke's face. "What?"

"Nothing," Brooke said, shrugging. "Just a little surprised that you gave up so easily. Usually there's a ten minute screaming match before you storm out of my office and terrorize the interns."

"Oh, please, Brooke," Victoria said, rolling her eyes. "It's hardly something to have a screaming match over. You obviously trust what's-her-name with Milan, so there's really nothing I can do. And besides, there isn't a single intern that doesn't dive out of the way when they see me coming. Terrorizing is no fun if you can't catch them by surprise."

"Of course," Brooke mumbled, rolling her eyes, her lips tugging up into a smile. Every now and then, her mother surprised her.

"And how is your young ward? Jamie, that's his name, isn't it?"

"Yes…he's fine. It's a slow process, but he's getting better everyday, I think. You could come and meet him sometime, you know. He's a pretty permanent fixture in my life nowadays, after all."

Instead of answering, Victoria cleared her throat as she rose to her feet, her hands tugging down the jacket of her suit as she turned her back and headed towards the door. "Keep me posted about Milan," she said over her shoulder. "I'd like to be informed if the biggest deal of the month crashes and burns because of Muffy's incompetence."

And with that last comment, Victoria Davis shut the door behind her, her tall form strutting down the hallway.

Brooke shook her head as she watched her go.

And then there were moments where Brooke realized exactly why she was such a basketcase most of the time.

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"You realize that's the fourth time you've fluffed your hair?"

Brooke glared at Deb's reflection in the mirror, the older woman's grinning face seeming to grin even more with the action.

It was 6:15, and Brooke was standing in front of the floor length mirror in her bedroom, debating on the fourth outfit change of the night. Dinner at home wasn't nearly as fancy an occasion as dinner out, but date number 2 certainly wasn't a sweatpants and t-shirt ordeal, either. She'd finally decided on an off-the-shoulder blue top paired with a pair of dark denim jeans. Her feet were currently bare, the bright purple nail polish on her toes poking out from beneath the hem of her jeans. Now begged the question of how to wear her hair, a question that Deb Scott was finding quite amusing at the moment.

"I think you should wear it down," Jamie chimed in, his small frame sprawled across Brooke's bed as he watched her in the mirror, his tiny feet swaying in the air. "It's pretty when it's like that."

Brooke smiled at him from over her shoulder. "You do, huh?"

Jamie nodded. "It makes you look like you did in the picture of you and Aunt Peyton when you guys were in high school."

She laughed, gathering her hair up in her hands as she snagged a hair clip from the corner of the mirror. "Perfect, jailbait for the jailer," she muttered under her breath, looking up at Deb when she laughed.

"Oh, believe me, Brooke," she said, stepping into the room and taking a seat next to Jamie on the bed. "The last thing Don Flack thinks of when he looks at you is 'jailbait.' Wear it down. And for God's sake, would you please relax? You're making ME nervous with all your jittering. Everything is going to be fine."

"I know," Brooke said, shaking her hair out and letting it fall over her shoulders as she turned to face her. "It's just…" Her eyes drifted to Jamie, who's eyes were transfixed on the TV across the room, an old Looney Tunes rerun playing across the screen, before they settled again on Deb. "Don is the first real guy I've liked in…I don't know how long. I mean, he's sweet and charming and handsome and oh-so-sexy and…he's crazy about Jamie. I just…I don't know. I don't think I've ever wanted something to work so badly as I do this."

Deb smiled softly as she rose from the bed, crossing the small distance so she could wrap an arm around the younger girl's waist. "And it will. Detective Flack would be a complete idiot to not see what a catch you are. Obviously he's intrigued enough to suggest date number 2. And I can guarantee that there will be a date number 3, a date number 4, and so on and so on. Trust me on this, sweetie. The way Don looks at you…" She sighed, her face taking on a wistful smile. "Well…let's just say that it reminds me of the way a certain young man looked at the young woman that would be his wife until the day they died."

Brooke stared at her, torn between the anxiety she felt at Deb's comparison and sorrow at the mention of her two best friends.

She'd been inspired by the love Nathan and Haley shared, fantasizing about the day that she would find a bond like that. She thought, once upon a time, that she had with Lucas. Of course, now he was marrying Peyton.

It was crazy to think that Don Flack and she could possibly have what Naley did. They'd just met, after all. But still…that feeling she got in the pit of her stomach every time she even thought of him could overwhelm her.

Deb smiled, reaching out and stroking Brooke's hair gently. "Wear your hair down. Relax. Have fun." Her smile turned into a grin as she leaned forward, her eyes darting to ensure that Jamie's little ears weren't listening. "And, remember…no sex without safe sex."

Brooke snorted, reaching out and wrapping her hands around the woman she'd come to think of as somewhat of a mother—certainly a friend—and shook her head. "Way to ruin the moment, Deb."

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Don had arrived on time, a grin on his handsome face and a large, delicious smelling pizza box balanced in his hand.

Brooke couldn't help the way her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. He was dressed in a pair of blue jeans, a long sleeved white button up shirt that clung to his shoulders, his dark hair tousled from the wind blowing outside.

Don Flack was gorgeous.

Deb had excused herself shortly after Jamie had launched his small body at Don's legs. She'd slipped around them as she eyed Don crouching to talk to the boy, her eyes unabashedly taking in his backside and broad shoulders. She met Brooke's gaze, her eyes nearly rolling with unspoken lust, and Brooke sent her a warning glare as the older woman shimmied out the door with a grin.

Jamie had approved of the pizza, his young face scrunching up as he chewed slowly. Don had leaned against the table on his elbows, a smug expression on his rugged face as he'd glanced over at Brooke, who simply rolled her eyes and sipped her wine.

Now the two of them sat on the sofa, the half empty bottle of red wine sitting on the small coffee table next to them.

Brooke had gotten Jamie into bed without much of a hassle, mostly because he'd convinced Don to regale him with his tales of hockey as a kid. He'd settled under the covers after forcing Brooke to promise that he could get a hockey stick that weekend.

"If he knocks his teeth out, I'm completely blaming you," she'd said to Don softly as they'd made their way back to the living room. Don had chuckled, placing his hand on the small of her back as he followed her down the hallway.

She could still feel his touch burning even ten minutes later.

"Thank you for being so good to Jamie," Brooke said softly, her fingers fiddling with the wedding bands that hung from the delicate chain around her neck. Deb had given them to her after the funeral; a keepsake that she could save for Jamie when he grew up and got married. Until that time came, she was content keeping them around her neck, sliding them on and off her fingers whenever she got lost in thought. It made her feel as if Nathan and Haley were still with her.

She raised her eyes, smiling softly and shrugging when she met Don's gentle gaze. "A lot of people see Jamie and talk down to him just because he's a kid. He doesn't really get taken seriously very often. It means a lot to him that you don't talk to him like he's just a silly little boy."

Don grinned, shrugging. "It's my pleasure. Hell, I'm just a big kid when I think about it. Just because Jamie's little doesn't mean he shouldn't be treated the way everyone else is. He's a smart cookie."

"Well, he gets that from Haley," Brooke replied, nodding knowingly. "Tutor Girl is the smartest person I know." She faltered when she heard herself. "Well…knew." She chuckled softly, shrugging. "I catch myself doing that a lot still…referring to them like they're still here."

Don nodded, silent. He understood. He didn't know how many times since Angell died he referred to her in the present tense, or when, after a hard day, he went to pick up the phone and vent to her, only to hang up after the first ring when he remembered she wasn't there to answer. After twelve months, those instances were few and far between. But when they did happen, the sadness would cut through him like a knife.

"They'd be glad to see you doing such a good job with Jamie," he said, taking a sip of his wine before setting the glass on the table.

"Well, you weren't here for the first few weeks," Brooke laughed. "It seemed like everything that could go wrong did go wrong. I felt like Jamie hated me, and started thinking that Nathan and Haley made such a huge mistake, entrusting him to me…." She shrugged. "But then we got into the swing of things and I got a hang of the whole parenting thing…and now I can't imagine life without him around. He kind of just…makes sense, you know?" She raised her head, already feeling his steady gaze fixed on her, and she smiled self-consciously. "And once again, you're staring at me like I have two heads."

Don's lips twitched up into a half-smile, his blue eyes trailing over her face in near wonder. "Naw, nothing like that," he said softly, shaking his head. "You just…you amaze me, you know?"

Brooke tilted her head to the side, her face mixed with an expression of confusion and curiosity.

"I've seen a lot of orphaned kids in my time on the force. Way too many than I'd care to. And I can barely think of one time when a friend of the parents stepped up in the way that you have with Jamie. I mean, you altered your whole life for that kid…and you're not resentful of it at all. Most people would be." He smiled, reaching out a tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're pretty amazing, Brooke Davis."

Brooke felt her heart leap into her throat when his fingers grazed her cheek, and she smiled, kicking her eyebrow slightly. "Is this part of that whole sweet talk thing you promised earlier?" she teased. "If so, then stroking my ego is definitely the way to score points with me."

Don grinned, leaning forward and capturing her lips with his in a gentle, teasing kiss. He felt her sigh against his mouth, her hands reaching around his neck to tangle themselves in his hair. He cupped her cheek in his hand, his thumb tracing a light pattern on her soft skin as his other arm wrapped itself around her waist, pulling her closer.

He was amazed once again at just how well she fit against his chest.

His lips trailed down the side of her neck, feeling her laugh softly against his shoulder.

"And now we're to the touchy feely part," she whispered as she pressed her lips against his ear, sending shivers down his spine. "I like the way you think, Detective."

He smiled against her neck. "What can I say? It's the blue eyed, Irish charm."

Brooke laughed, shaking her head as she pulled back, pressing her lips against him in a quick kiss before she rose to her feet. She saw his eyebrows shoot up in curiosity, and she grinned, reaching out and taking his hand. She tugged, watching him rise to his full, towering height, and stood on the tips of her toes to kiss him deeply again. His arms wrapped around her waist as she walked them backwards towards the hallway, feeling his lips curve into a smile against her lips.

As they made their way to the bedroom at the end of the hall, their hands and lips exploring every inch of each other that they could, they both knew that everything was about to change.

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**I love Don and Brooke. Like…really love them. They are becoming one of my favorite couples.**

**Hopefully you guys enjoyed this chapter! It's one of the longer ones I've written, and I'm thinking that I like it. Hope you guys did too!**

**Let me know what you all thought! Until next time, my friends!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Take Me or Leave Me**

**Thanks for all the feedback, guys! I love this story, too, so I'm loving that you guys love it! Read and enjoy!**

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Sunlight was streaming through the wide veranda windows, illuminating the bedroom in a dim shine as Don leaned against the headboard, his eyes gazing down at the sleeping woman next to him. Brooke's dark hair was spread across the pillow under her head, seeming almost like a splash of dark paint against the light purple pillowcase. Her face was turned towards him, her expression serene as she slept on, and Don thought once more that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

He'd woken nearly ten minutes ago, disoriented for the brief moment it took him to remember his surroundings, before memories of the previous night came screaming back to him. His face had broken into a wide grin, and he'd turned his head to see Brooke's sleeping form next to him. She had looked so peaceful, he couldn't bring himself to wake her. So he'd sat there, content with just watching her chest rise and fall with her even breathing. He smiled every time her face twitched in her sleep, and he couldn't help wondering exactly what it was she was dreaming about.

A far off banging noise tore his attention from the woman next to him, and he furrowed his brow when he heard it again. With a glance over at Brooke once more, Don slipped from the bed, crossing to the dresser where his boxers and jeans had carelessly been tossed the night before. Unable to help but smile again, he slipped into them as quietly as he could, before he crossed the bedroom door. He pulled it open slowly, looking over his shoulder to ensure he hadn't disturbed the sleeping beauty, and slipped into the hallway, closing the door as silently as he could.

The banging was louder now, and he ran a hand through his disheveled hair as he rounded the corner. He crossed his arms over his chests, smirking as he took in the sight before him.

A kitchen chair had been pushed up against the counter, and Jamie Scott sat on his knees on its cushioned seat. His blonde hair was askew, strands sticking up at odd angles, and his blue and red pajamas were wrinkled, one pant leg rolled up to his knee. The counter could have been likened to a crime scene, it was so haphazardly organized. Numerous cereal bowls aligned the counter, twice as many cereal boxes next to them, some tipped over on their edges, spilling their contents across the tile. A half gallon of milk was opened, a small puddle pooling underneath it.

Jamie's young face was contemplative as he browsed his breakfast selection, and Don had to nearly bite his lip to keep from laughing at his somber expression.

Shaking his head, he took a step into the kitchen. "You contemplating your own breakfast chain there, kid?"

Jamie's head whipped around, a smile breaking across his face. "Detective Flack!" he exclaimed, leaping off the chair and racing towards him, his tiny arms wrapping themselves around his legs. "What are you doing here?"

Don shrugged, casting a quick glance down the hallway behind him before he looked down at the young boy. "I thought I'd swing by and fix you breakfast," he fibbed easily, smiling when Jamie's eyes lit up. "But it looks like you might have started to beat me to it."

"Aunt Brooke's still asleep," Jamie said. "She doesn't get to sleep in very much, so I wanted to make my own breakfast so she could. But since you're here, I guess you can make it for me if you want to." He frowned, tilting his head as he looked over the tall man before him. "How come you're not wearing a shirt?"

Don grinned, reaching out to ruffle the boy's hair as he turned him back to the counter. "You want to keep grilling me, dude, or you want some pancakes?"

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Jamie was well onto his third pancake by the time Brooke made her way down the hallway, a white bathrobe wrapped around her slim body. She was running a hand through her tousled hair, her face breaking into a small smile when she caught sight of Jamie and Don at the kitchen table.

Jamie turned when he heard her footsteps, and he grinned, his face slathered with butter and syrup. "Morning, Aunt Brooke! Detective Flack came by to make us breakfast."

Brooke smiled, stopping next to Jamie's chair as she ran a hand over his head, meeting Don's gaze. "He did, huh?" she asked, arching an eyebrow playfully at the handsome detective as he shrugged. "Well, that was awful nice of him, wasn't it Jame?"

"Mmmhmmm," Jamie said around his mouthful, nodding. "His pancakes are really good, Aunt Brooke."

"Hmmm," Brooke said. "Imagine that." She grinned, sending a flirtatious wink in Don's direction as she turned and made her way to the counter where a steaming pile of pancakes sat on a serving plate. She heard his footsteps a moment before his strong arms wrapped around her waist, his face nuzzling the side of her neck as she smiled.

"You don't believe my pancakes are good?" he said softly in her ear, his breath tickling her skin, making her giggle.

"Oh, I have no doubt that your pancakes are _very_ good," Brooke said, smiling as she tilted her head to look at his face.

Don smiled, taking in the teasing glint in her eyes, and chuckled. "Just my pancakes, huh?"

Brooke giggled, turning in his arms as she looped her arms around his neck, her eyes darting over his shoulder quickly to ensure that Jamie was still engrossed in his meal. She met his eyes, arching an eyebrow playfully as she raised herself onto her tiptoes. "Pretty sure you proved that last night, Detective," she whispered quietly against his lips, feeling them tilt into a smirk before he pressed them gently against hers. She sighed, smiling against his lips, and let herself fall into his arms for a brief moment.

Her moment was foiled, however, with the sound of the front door opening, and Deb's cheerful voice calling from the front room.

"Good morning!"

Brooke and Don pulled apart, Don unable to stop the laugh from escaping his mouth at the groan that came from Brooke, and they both turned as the sound of heels rounded the corner before skidding to a stop.

Deb stood in the doorway to the kitchen, her mouth hanging open as her bulging eyes took in the sight before her. She looked from them, to Jamie, then back to them before her face broke into a wide smile. "A good morning, indeed, apparently," she said, ignoring the way Brooke rolled her eyes, but not missing the slight blush that overtook the young woman's pale face. "Having breakfast, are we?"

"Morning, Nanny Deb!" Jamie called from his place at the table, his smiling face completely oblivious to the teasing exchange that was occurring between the adults in the room. "Detective Flack came over to make me and Aunt Brooke breakfast. He makes really good pancakes."

Deb pursed her lips knowingly, tilting her head as she took in the two young adults that stood next to the kitchen counter, her eyes fixed on Don's hand as it rested, wrapped around Brooke's waist. "I'm sure he does," she said knowingly, smirking when Brooke gave her the evil eye. Her gaze traveled to Don's still bare chest, and she sighed. "My, they do train you boys well at the academy, don't they Detective?"

Don grinned, a faint blush staining his grizzled cheeks. "Yes, ma'am."

Brooke rolled her eyes, pulling his hand off her waist and enlacing her fingers with his. "Deb, can you keep an eye on Jamie for a minute?"

Deb nodded, smiling. "Of course," she said, tossing her purse over the back of the couch as she headed to the kitchen table, sliding into the chair next to Jamie. "Should I pull out some earplugs so as not scar any innocent young minds?"

"Stop," Brooke mouthed to her, swatting Don on the chest as he chuckled at the exchange, and shook her head as she led him down the hallway. She pulled him into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her, and gasped softly when she was tugged against his chest, his lips crashing to hers. She smiled, feeling his hands spreading across the expanse of her back. She felt him pull her closer, and her hands wound around his neck of their own volition.

"Did I tell you that you look like a goddess first thing in the morning?" he murmured, his lips trailing down her neck.

Brooke laughed, smiling as his unshaven face tickled her skin, leaving a burning trail in its wake. "Yeah, okay."

"Seriously," he said, nuzzling the skin just below her ear as he moved them backwards. "It was like Aphrodite was walking down the hallway in a fuzzy white robe." The sound of her laughter brought a grin to his face, and he pressed his lips against hers as her knees hit the edge of the bed, causing them both to tumble down into the sheets gently. He braced his hands against the mattress so his weight wouldn't crush her, and he pulled back slightly, watching her hazel eyes blink up at him as a soft smile lit up her features. "You're beautiful, Brooke."

She shrugged, her hand rising to run a finger down his cheek. "You're not so bad yourself, Don Flack."

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"So…I'm guessing that the date went far better than you anticipated."

Brooke rolled her eyes at Deb as the older woman helped her load the dishwasher, blatantly ignoring the knowing grin she was sending her way.

"You don't have to answer me," Deb taunted, shutting the door with a soft click and hitting the start button in one quick motion. "The half-naked police officer in your kitchen spoke volumes to just how well."

"He wasn't half-naked," Brooke said, tossing a dish towel at her.

"Hmmm. Wearing only a pair of jeans, and absolutely no shirt…yes, I'm nearly positive that's the very definition of half-naked."

Brooke laughed, shaking her head as she turned to wipe down the counter, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder even as she grinned to herself. She was nearly giddy, she was coming to realize. For the first time since she was in high school, she had those silly butterflies in her belly, and she could feel her face heating up just thinking of the man that was taking a shower in her bathroom at that very moment.

"I see that smile, Brooke Davis."

She looked over to see Deb's smiling face—a smile of happiness this time, not teasing. The blonde woman shrugged.

"It's good to see," she said softly. She leaned her elbows against the counter, her eyes traveling to the small boy that sat coloring at the kitchen table. "You've spent the last year dedicating every second to Jamie. I'm glad to see that you're taking a few seconds to yourself now." She reached out to push Brooke's hair behind her ear, letting her hand linger on her cheek in a motherly fashion. "Life is far too short, Brooke. We both know that."

Brooke nodded, her gaze drifting over to Jamie as he swung his legs against the couch, his young face lighting up as the Looney Tunes raced across the TV screen. Life was too short. Unbelievably short.

Don Flack was the first chance Brooke had taken since before Nathan and Haley had died. Staring at the hard truth now, she realized that she'd closed herself off long before she became a parent to Jamie. After giving back Angie, breaking up with Owen, seeing Lucas and Peyton finally together…she'd started to believe that maybe she was meant to be alone. And then Nathan and Haley had their accident…and, with Jamie, came the knowledge that she'd never have to be alone again. But as much as she loved Jamie Scott, there had still been that little ache in her heart.

An ache that Don was quickly healing.

Yes, life was short.

Too short to worry about the broken hearts. Or the crushed dreams.

Life was too short to live it in fear.

She looked back at Deb, her lips curving up into a near shy smile. "He's pretty great, isn't he?"

The older woman sighed, her blue eyes rolling as she tossed her blonde curls over her shoulder. "From where I was standing…." She grinned. "He's VERY great."

Brooke laughed. "Jesus, do you know no bounds, Deb Scott?"

"Mmmm. When it comes to as fine a specimen as Don Flack…no way in hell." Deb chuckled, reaching out and wrapping an arm around Brooke's slender shoulders. "Just let me know if it goes in the crapper so I can have a round, too."

"A round at what?"

They both turned at the deep voice that spoke from behind them, and Brooke couldn't help but grin when she spotted Don's smiling face, his wet hair clinging to his face from the shower. Her heart fluttered uncontrollably when he walked to her side, resting a hand on her waist and pressed a gentle kiss against the side of her face. Dear God, it was like she was fifteen all over again…

"Deb's discussing her desire to become your cougar," Brooke said bluntly, her skin tingling from where Don's fingers were grazing just above her waistband. That damn static shock hadn't gotten any better…

"No kidding?" Don laughed, his handsome face breaking into a wide, teasing grin as he tugged Brooke slightly closer, his blue eyes laughing as he took in Deb's amused face.

"You'd best just keep that shirt on when you're around here, Detective," she purred, winking at him teasingly as she passed them, reaching out to fluff Brooke's hair affectionately. She laughed, shaking her head as she made her way to wear Jamie sat on the couch, his young face breaking into a smile when she plopped down next to him.

Don smiled, looking back at Brooke as he leaned a hip against the counter next to him. "She's got kind of a dark side, huh?"

Brooke laughed, shaking her head slightly as she thought of Deb and her past antics. Drinking, pain killers, trying to humiliate Dan Scott and ruin his chances of election. Not to mention drugging him and setting his car dealership on fire, with him inside. Then there was that whole loaded gun in the café thing….Maybe it's best not to mention any of that yet. "You have no idea." She smiled, looking up at him. "Do you have to go off and save the world again today, Detective?"

Don nodded, letting his hand travel down her arm and to her fingers, amazed at how the simplest touch could stimulate nearly every nerve in his body. This was something, he couldn't deny that. "Gotta check in at least. There is a crazed road rager out there somehwhere."

"Still no leads on that then, I take it? I mean, the license plate Jamie saw?"

He shook his head, leaning back so his hip rested against the counter. "Led to a stolen car that had been dumped already. We got some trace and things like that from it, though, so it wasn't a dead end. As soon as we have something to compare it to, we can put an end to it all." He sighed, watching as her hazel eyes examined his face, her head nodding slowly as he spoke. Her face was so understanding, as if she knew from experience the struggle he faced with this case. He knew her life in Tree Hill had its share of trials—after all, you didn't get shadows like the ones her eyes held by living life safely. She'd seen her fair share of evil, he could tell.

And he knew beyond a doubt that he wanted to know what that evil was, and make those shadows disappear completely.

"You wanna do somethin' this weekend?" he asked, smiling.

He watched a teasing smile spread across her face, and she took a step closer, her eyes gazing up at him.

"Propositioning me for some alone time, Don? If I know anything from watching all those cop dramas, I'm pretty sure that's an arrestable offense."

Don laughed, shaking his head. "You would be one of those daytime TV watchers, wouldn't ya?"

She smiled, shrugging her shoulders. "We could do something this weekend…Jamie has a sleepover birthday party with his friend Tommy. So the apartment would be empty…"

"Jamie's not gonna be here? Deal's off." He grinned when she narrowed her gaze playfully, her lips pursing up into a teasing smirk, and he leaned down, capturing them with his own. "Sounds like a pretty good idea to me." He kissed her once more before pulling away, smiling down at her.

Yeah, this was definitely something, he came to realize. And it was something he was not willing to lose anytime soon.

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**FLUFF! Gotta love it!**

**Laying some groundwork…you just have to love the lovey-dovey aspects of a beginning relationship. The next couple chapters take place a few weeks into it, though, so we'll get to see a bit more.**

**Hopefully you guys liked the new chapter! I'm loving the story so far, so let me know what you think.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Take Me or Leave Me**

**A.N. You guys are awesome. As always. I'm so sorry for the delay. I love this story just as much as you guys do, and it breaks my heart that it's been ignored for so long. So hopefully this chapter makes up for the absence!**

**00000000000**

Nearly a month of detective work. Just shy of three weeks of interviews, leads, close calls…and it ended like this.

In a bloodbath.

Flack stood against the curb of the rickety house on Shady Lane, the cool metal of his car pressing against his back as he leaned heavily against it. His bulletproof vest lied discarded on the ground, his arms now crossed tightly over his chest as he watched the Coroners department wheel out Matthew Johnson.

Matthew Johnson. The 42-year-old single father the press had so cunningly named The Road Rager.

The whole thing still blew his mind out of the water. He just didn't understand. Well…he understood. Grief did crazy things. He knew that better than anyone. He supposed he just couldn't comprehend how Johnson could lose himself so completely.

A facial recognition one a traffic control video had been the breakthrough. Johnson had been identified as the Road Rager, and while on the way to tracking down his place of residence, the team had discovered his tale of despair. Despair, because there was no other way to describe it.

Johnson's four-year-old son had been struck by a car two weeks before the accidents occurred. According to the police report, a teenager driving too fast had been replying to a text message when he turned the corner, plowing over the small child as he raced into the street after his runaway ball. The driver had barely slowed down to see what happened before he sped off at record speed. Johnson had only gotten a glance of the kid, and as he held his bleeding son in his arms in the middle of the street, something snapped in his mind.

The driver's face was all he could see then.

They'd talked to his shrinks, the detectives on the hit-and-run case. They all said the same thing: The death of his son and the lack of justice in the driver's case led to his lack of sanity.

What should have been an easy resolution—a way to help this poor, grieving father get the help he needed—had quickly turned into a full-blown shoot-out, ending in the death of Johnson as well as the injury of two detectives.

All Don could see, though, was himself a year ago.

He could easily see how he could have ended up just as unstable as Johnson.

"Don."

Flack tore his gaze away from the crime scene, straightening to his full height as Mac approached, the man's face weary as he looked him over. "We all done here?"

Mac sighed, nodding as he glanced at the sheet-covered gurney. "We did everything we could, Don," he said softly, raising his hand and resting it on his shoulder.

"Yeah?" Don asked, shaking his head. "Tell that to Matthew Johnson. The only reason this whole thing happened was because he couldn't get justice for his kid. You telling me we did everything we could to help him find the driver of the car that night?"

"Don…"

"No, I get it, Mac. I know what you're going to say. I get that he took matters into his own hands. But…damn it, it shouldn't have happened in the first place, you know?" He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling the weight of the night wearing on him. "I could have been Matthew Johnson, Mac. After Jess…if you hadn't…"

"But I did," Mac finished, shaking his head. "And you didn't. That's what matters. Matthew Johnson was a disturbed individual. He had completely lost touch with what was real and what was in his mind, Don. He wanted justice for his son so much that everyone he looked at became the kid behind the wheel of the car that day. Every person lingering in a crosswalk, every person talking on a cellphone…he couldn't distinguish between what was real and what wasn't. That wasn't you."

Flack nodded, running a hand down his ragged face. "Yeah," he said softly. "Just makes you think, you know? It shouldn't have come to this."

"I know," the older man said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his long overcoat. "Go home, Don. The paperwork can wait until tomorrow. It's been a long day. A long month, really." He smiled then. "It's not too late yet…Go see Brooke." He shrugged when Flack glanced at him curiously. "The lab talks."

Don grinned. "You mean Messer talks."

"More or less," Mac answered, laughing. "But really. Go home, go see Brooke. Detox from the night. Trust me…I plan on doing the same."

Don nodded, watching silently as Mac turned on his heel and headed towards his own vehicle, stopping to speak with the coroner for a brief second. Sighing, he tossed his head back, staring up into the star lit sky. A night this quiet shouldn't be so violent. It shouldn't be filled with gunshots and screams. It shouldn't be filled with flashing lights and uniformed officers trampling down the street.

He sighed again, glancing at the watch on his wrist. Mac was right—it wasn't that late.

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He leaned against the wall as he knocked softly on the apartment door, his head nearly throbbing. God, it had been a long night.

He straightened when the door opened, and he couldn't help the smile that spread across his face when Brooke peered out at him from the other side. Her long dark hair was in disarray as it fell across her shoulders. He could see bright red toenails peeking out from the hem of her pajama pants, matching the shade on her fingernails as her hand pulled the door open wider. Her makeup free face was lit up in pleasant surprise, slowly slipping into a look of concern when she saw his weary expression. "Hey," she said softly.

"Hey," Don replied, his voice low and tired as he leaned his forearm against the doorjamb. "Sorry to just drop by so late."

"No, it's fine," she answered, stepping back so she could let him inside. "I saw everything on the news. I was going to call, but I didn't want to bother you in the middle of everything."

He laughed softly as she closed the door behind him, shrugging. "I would have been glad if you did," he said, turning around and taking her hand, gently tugging her towards him. His arms wrapped around her waist as her hand came up to rest against his chest. He dropped his head into the crook of her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her perfume as he held her in his arms.

A month had gone by, and he still never grew tired of holding her this close. If anything, it drove him crazy when he couldn't. Brooke Davis and Jamie Scott had become permanent fixtures in his life since that night in the diner. Movie nights and dinner dates with Brooke, baseball and basketball games with kid. The days he didn't see them were days that threw him off completely. He loved seeing Brooke's smiling face, loved hearing Jamie's excited voice.

Brooke's hands made their way up to his shoulders, and he pressed a soft kiss to the side of her neck as he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. "Tough day, huh?" she asked softly. She felt him nod, and her fingers curled around the collar of his jacket. "You did your best, Don."

"Yeah," he said, pulling away but allowing his arms to remain wrapped around her waist. "Funny how sometimes doing your best doesn't seem to really cut it."

She laughed, arching her eyebrow as she stared up at him. "You're preaching to the choir there, Detective," she said. "Or have you forgotten that I'm an out-of-her-depth guardian of a five year old?"

Don smiled, nodding. "He in bed?"

"No, he's sleeping over at Skills' tonight. Some boy basketball bonding thing or something."

"What? Aunt Brooke letting the kid out on a school night? You slacking on your rules there or what?" he teased, loving the way her eyes rolled as she laughed.

"There's some teacher thing tomorrow, so there's no school. So, knowing Skills, Jamie is wide awake, wired on sugar, and most likely wreaking destruction on an already destroyed apartment. But…Skills brought it on himself. He knows what sugar does to Jamie."

Don nodded, smiling in spite of himself. He'd finally met the infamous Skills Tanner, nearly a week after he and Brooke had first spent the night together. He'd been sitting on her couch with Jamie, getting his ass kicked by the kid at NBA 2K11, when the front door had opened after a brief, but loud, knock. His instincts as a cop had him pausing the game and reaching for the gun that wasn't presently on his hip as the young man had sauntered in, his goateed face taking in the scene before him with apprehension and amusement. He'd nodded at him, his hands on his hips as he stopped in the hallway. "You the cop?"

Don had settled back in his seat, glancing down at Jamie as the boy peered up at him, a small smile on his face. He'd looked back at Skills, his eyes taking in the protective stance he adopted. It was obvious to anyone that he was overprotective, and in that moment he knew that it wasn't just over Jamie, but Brooke as well. So he'd nodded, rising to his feet, noticing with amusement that Jamie did the same. "Don Flack," he'd said, holding out his hand in a form of peace offering as he held the younger man's gaze.

Skills had let his dark eyes linger on his outstretched hand, before briefly trailing over to the small boy at their side. He'd nodded again, reaching out and shaking his hand, his own grip slightly tighter than just a friendly hello. "You do anything to screw this up, you and me be having a problem."

Don had nodded, shrugging his shoulders. "Trust me. You don't have anything to worry about."

Skills had nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. "Better not." He'd looked him over again, his dark face lightening as he glanced down at Jamie. "He don't look so tough, dawg."

Jamie had raised an eyebrow at his "uncle," a signature he had undoubtedly adopted from Brooke, and smirked. "He has a gun and a badge. And he thinks my cape is cool. You don't get tougher than that."

They'd laughed at the boy's frankness, and Don and Skills had settled into a friendly rhythm together.

Don shook his head, reaching out and brushing a strand of hair off Brooke's cheek. "You know, as demented as it sounds, I'm thankful for that day in Times Square." She looked at him quizzically, and he shrugged. "Brought me to you and Jamie, didn't it?"

Brooke's lips tugged up into a small smile, and she rested her hand against his chest. "What are you so mushy for, huh?" she teased, titling her head to the side.

He laughed, running a hand through his already tousled hair as he held her hand tightly in his. He tugged her behind him as he made his way to the couch, and he sat down with a sigh, looking over at her as she snuggled next to him, her legs tucked up under her. "Cases like this…I don't know. They make me think, you know? About how things could have turned out if the tables were turned." He watched as her brow furrowed in slightly confusion, and he turned so he could face her more fully. "As freaking corny as this is going to sound…before I met you…I was in a dark place, Brooke. A real…dark place."

"I lost my partner, a little over a year ago. Jessica." He knew by the way the gleam in her eye changed that his face had softened at the mention of her name. "She, uh…died. In the line of duty. And it hit me hard." Her face had tightened, he noticed, and he found himself reaching for her hand automatically. He didn't have to be a lab rat to know what was going through her head right then. He was all too familiar with the twisted tale of Lucas Scott and the love triangle that had plagued her throughout her final years of high school. While Deb might be jovial and teasing when he was around, she was fiercely protective of her friend. She made no secret about letting him know how it was. Letting him know just how precious the heart of Brooke Davis was, and exactly what would happen if he would let it get hurt.

He'd heard the story of Brooke, Peyton, and Lucas, and he knew that the scars of that triangle still lingered on Brooke. The last thing he wanted was for her to doubt the way he felt about her. But in order to let her know just how strong his feelings were, he had to tell her about Jessica.

"I didn't handle it in the best way. Really, I handled it in the worst way imaginable." His mind drifted back to that night, when he had forsaken the oath he'd taken as an officer of the law, and took justice into his own hands. He blinked, shaking his head. That was a detail he'd leave out for the moment. This was hard enough.

"She was important to you?" he heard her ask softly, and he saw the uncertain look in her eyes. "Your partner…she was more than just a partner."

He nodded, swallowing the lump that was forming in his throat. "She was everything." He watched a mixture of emotions flash across her face, and he sat up when she slipped her hand out of his grasp. "Brooke."

"Why are you telling me this?"

She was taking it the wrong way.

"I just needed you to know that—"

"That what?" Brooke asked, folding her hands into her lap as she stared at him. "That I'm a second choice? Don…"

He shook his head. "You're not listening to me, doll."

Brooke's eyes closed as she shook her head. He knew she loved it when he called her doll. "Look…I've been that second fiddle in someone else's love story. It's a place I never wanted to be again." He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. "I get it, okay? So just…say what you need to and we can just be done with it all. Better to just cut it all off now, before we get too deep into—" His fingers pressed against her lips, and she raised her eyes to meet his angry ones. She sat further back into the cushions, taken aback by the emotion.

"You aren't listening to me, Davis. So just shut up for a second, alright?" She stared at him, and he lowered his hand, letting it linger on her chin as he leaned forward. "Jess is gone. I needed you to know about her now, because I know that at some point down the road, she'd come up, and the last thing I want is for you to start thinking like you are right now." He leaned closer, staring into her eyes. "I never thought I could feel what I did with Jess with anyone ever again. I thought I was going to end up one of those bitter old cops that's married to the job, with no family or anybody to come home to. And I was resigned to that. And then you came along." He shook his head as he caressed her cheek softly. "You, with your killer smile and complete crazy that I find unbelievably irresistible." Her cheeks curved up under his thumb as she smiled. "You just…waltzed in, with your beautiful eyes and your cute nephew. And for the longest time, I honestly couldn't breathe when you were around. Because I kept waiting for that moment for me to realize that I saw Jess in you, and that was why I was so damn drawn to you."

He shook his head. "But you're nothing like her. You're crazy and spontaneous. You randomly bust out into these awful dance moves that make me cringe, but at the same time just make me like you even more," he grinned, ignoring the half-hearted slap she aimed at his chest as she laughed. "You care more about Jamie than you do anything else, and I've seen first hand how protective you are of him. And all that does is make me realize that I want to be the one that's protecting you."

"I'm falling for you, Brooke Davis," he said, watching as her face softened under his gaze. "I'm falling for you faster than I ever thought I could. And I don't want you to think that you are second fiddle to anything. Because you are on my mind, every second of every day. I know you've gotten burned in the past…but that's not gonna happen with me. Alright? 'Cause I never want to stop falling here."

He watched silently as Brooke's eyes welled up with unshed tears, her lips slowly curving up into a smile as she shook her head slowly. Her hand slid up his chest to wrap around the back of his neck, and he smiled when she leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. "I fell a long ago, Flack," she whispered, feeling his arm wrap around her waist and tug her closer, pulling her into his lap. She raised her head, feeling his lips curving against her own as he smiled.

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"So…it's dinner."

Don grinned as he peered up at Brooke from his place under the sink, the wrench in his hand coming to rest against his chest as he let his gaze travel up her slim legs, over her tiny waist, and up her lean torso. By the time he reached her face, she was smirking at him with an eyebrow arched, and he knew his leering hadn't gone unnoticed. He shrugged, stretching his legs out ahead of him.

"Dinner. Drinks. No doubt an interrogation. You think I'm a pro, my mom taught me everything I know."

Brooke laughed, running a hand through her hair as she leaned against the counter.

Don winked at her as he pulled himself under the sink again, and he couldn't help but smile. Two weeks had gone by since he'd gone all chick flick on his girlfriend and spilled his guts to her. Two weeks that he was now confident were the best two weeks of his life.

It was also two weeks of avoiding phone calls from his mother, who had been nagging him for much longer than that to meet the lovely girl that his friend Danny had been so kind to mention, and "thanks for letting your mother know that you were seeing someone." He'd been lucky until yesterday, when he'd been cornered at his desk in the station by the woman that had given him life. And he knew by the look on her face that, yes, indeed, she was fully capable of taking that life away if she so wanted. And Lord knows, Don say no to Christine Flack. He wasn't left with much of a choice when she threatened to hunt Brooke down herself, so he'd agreed to Sunday dinner with his parents and to bring Brooke and Jamie along.

Of course, he probably should have given Brooke more than a couple days notice.

"It's not that I'm opposed to meeting your parents," Brooke said, leaning against the counter as she unabashedly took in the sight of Don's lower half, her lips quirking up into a smile. _If he can do it, so can I. _"I'm just…you know…that really cop girlfriend material."

She heard his snort from under the sink, and she watched as he pulled himself out from underneath it, a wide, crooked grin across his handsome face. She smiled as he rose to his feet, dropping the wrench in the toolbox at his side as he stood. She admired the way his T-shirt stretched across his muscular chest as he crossed the short distance to her, wiping his hands on his jeans as he did. She peered up at him as he towered over her, her eyebrow arching playfully. "You're kind of sexy when you're Mr. Handy-man."

He grinned wider. "You think everything I do is sex," he said, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned a hip against the counter. "So let me ask: what exactly is 'cop girlfriend material?'"

Brooke shrugged, puckering her lips slightly. "I don't know. Like, quiet and well-behaved or something dull like that." She smiled when he laughed. "In case you haven't noticed, I don't fit either of those bills."

"Yeah, I've noticed," he teased, grabbing her hand when she reached out to whack him across the chest. He curled his fingers around hers. "What, are you actually afraid they aren't going to like you?" She shrugged, the smile slipping from her face. He laughed, shaking his head as he tugged her closer. "Come on, Davis. You're irresistible. Haven't we discussed that already?"

"Yes," she said, pressing her hips softly against his. "But I'm pretty sure the reasons you find me irresistible, you wouldn't really want me to display to your parents over Sunday dinner." She smiled when he rolled his eyes. "I just don't meet a lot of parents. You know? I never really had time for dating when I first moved to New York, and since Jamie…" She shrugged. "I'm a little out of my depth, I guess."

Don smiled, nodded as he ducked his head and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. "Trust me, Davis…you don't have anything to worry about. They're gonna love you. And if they don't, that's what Jamie's there for. He's our slam dunk."

Brooke laughed, tugging gently at the hair on the nape of his neck as he grinned. She pulled him down, pressing her lips to his. She smiled against his lips, nodding in resignation. "He is the true adorable factor. You've got me there." She peered up at him flirtatiously from under her lashes, her hands traveling from his shoulders to slide under his T-shirt. She smiled. "Jamie's not due back from school for another hour…maybe you could come take a look at some…different pipes."

Don couldn't help the stupid grin that stretched across his face, and he chuckled, grasping firmly onto her hips as she began to walk them backwards towards the hallway. "Different pipes, huh?" he asked, leaning down to nuzzle her neck as they made their way towards the bedroom. "Sounds complicated. Might take awhile, ma'am. You know how pipes can be."

"Mmmhmm. Well…as long as you're thorough, I don't mind how much time it takes." She giggled when he gently bit down on her neck. "Unless, of course, you don't feel up to the task."

She yelped in surprise when she was suddenly tossed over his shoulder, and she laughed at she stared down at his firm back until she found herself being tossed gently onto the bed. She grinned up at him as he pulled himself on top of her, his lips already seeking out hers.

"If I ever say no to that question, you sure as hell better shoot me dead."

Brooke laughed, shaking her head as she pressed herself against the detective above her, knowing now exactly how much she was falling in love with Don Flack.

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**Okay…totally fluffy. But I love it!**

**Once again, thank you guys soooo much for sticking by this story! I promise, promise, PROMISE that updates will be more steady!**

**I hope you guys enjoyed this one! Let me know what you guys think!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Take Me or Leave Me**

**A.N. You guys…rock. Seriously.**

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"What have we got, Flack?"

Don turned at the sound of the approaching voice, and he nodded at Mac as he and Stella ducked under the yellow crime scene tape and headed his way. "Autumn Summers." He nodded when both of the CSI's arched their eyebrows at him in question. "Yeah." He smiled, turning to point to the middle-aged woman who lied lifelessly in the center of the living room. "35, single. Neighbors say she usually keeps to herself, but has an impeccable schedule that she follows to a T. When she didn't head down to get her mail this morning, they got worried, called the super, who opened the door to find this." He waved his hands to indicate the disheveled crime scene.

"Forced entry?" Mac inquired, setting his silver crime scene case on the floor as he knelt slowly to examine the body.

"Not that I could see. Doorjamb wasn't messed with, windows locked tight. My guess is she knew the perp, let him walk right in." He sighed, letting his eyes travel around the room. "This woman was a hermit from what the other residents say. Spooked real easily by people she wasn't too familiar with."

"So, odds are we're looking for someone close to her, or at least someone familiar enough with her routine and lifestyle," Stella set, resting her gloved hands on her hips as her eyes watched Mac inspect the scene. "None of her neighbors saw anything?"

"Nah," Don said, pursing his lips as he glanced over at her. "That would make the job too easy."

Stella laughed, shaking her head of curls as she reached into her kit and withdrew her camera.

"Blunt force trauma," Mac stated as he rose to his feet and fell back to stand next to Flack as Stella raised the camera to her eye. "Sid would have to definitively classify it, but from the looks of it, that'd be my best guess."

"A lot of rage," Don said, his eyes traveling from Autumn's wide open eyes to the pool of blood that had now soaked fully into the carpet underneath her. "I'm gonna canvass the floors, see if anyone remembers seeing somebody entering or leaving the apartment in the last 24 hours or so." He turned to leave, pulling his memo pad from his pocket.

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"Why are you so nervous?"

Brooke rolled her eyes as she peered at Millicent from across her desk, shaking her head as she stirred her pasta salad with her fork. "It's not that I'm nervous necessarily. It's just that it has been a LONG time since I've met anyone's parents, let alone someone as important as Don."

Millie shrugged as she lifted a forkful of macaroni to her mouth. "You meet parents all the time at Jamie's school."

"Okay, that is totally different," Brooke replied, smiling as she glared at her friend. "This is like…make or break here, Millie. I mean, if Don's parents don't like me, it could seriously change everything. I mean…he's a third generation cop. Both his dad and his grandpa married cop wives." She saw Millie laugh and sighed. "Okay, so they weren't really cop wives until after they were cop's wives, but from what Don says, his mom is like June Cleaver. And, as we both know from Jamie's first few weeks with me, I can't cook to save my life. I mean, what if they think I'm all wrong for him?"

Millicent couldn't help but smile as she watched her friend. It had been a long time since she'd seen Brooke so involved in a man that wasn't Jamie. Since Nathan and Haley's accident, the only things that ever seemed to occupy her full attention was the company and the little boy she adored more than anything. Though Brooke would never admit it, Millie knew she was lonely. Gone were the days she dated a different guy every week for the headlines, replaced with Cartoon Network marathons and ice cream sundaes on Saturday nights.

She'd been happy when she heard Brooke had gone on a date with someone. And then she became ecstatic when that one date turned into several, and before too long, Brooke Davis was wearing a smile she'd never seen on her face before.

In the course of a little over a month, Detective Don Flack had swept Brooke off her feet. And he'd won Jamie over as well, if the boy's excited chatter over Aunt Brooke's new boyfriend was any indication.

"I really don't think it's possible for anyone to think you're wrong for Don, Brooke," Millie said, smiling when Brooke looked at her uncertainly. "Really, you guys just…click. As corny as that may sound." She laughed, watching the silly smile spread across her employer's face. "Really, Brooke. I think you're panicking over nothing. And besides, Jamie will be there. It's impossible to not love him."

Brooke laughed. "That's exactly what Don said." She sighed, shaking her head. "I know I'm probably overreacting. I just…really want them to like me, you know?"

Millie nodded. "I know…and they will. So please…stop freaking out."

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"So how bad is the fashionista freaking out?" Danny asked with a grin, walking next to Don down the hallway of the Crime Lab. He watched his friend roll his eyes and laughed. "Hey, I'm just going on what you told me, buddy. So? She a nervous wreck or what?"

"I think 'wreck' is a bit extreme," Don said, shaking his head.

"But she's nervous?"

"Yeah, she's nervous," he replied. "No clue why though. Ma and Pop are gonna be nuts about her, not to mention Jamie."

"Well, I can vouch for Brooke, considering Lindsay hasn't stopped raving about her since we had dinner with you guys three weeks ago. You know they talk on the phone more than she talks to her mother?" He shook his head when Don laughed. "And Jamie…hell, the kid is cuter than the Gerber baby. Your folks have a problem with him, you might wanna call your priest to make sure their souls are still intact." He grinned, turning the corner into his office and holding his arms out at his sides. "Seriously, man. She's got nothing to worry about. The only thing she could be concerned about is giving your old man a heart attack with that smile of hers. Man, it's blinding."

Don grinned, bracing his hands on the back of the visitor chair as he leaned down. "Tell me about it."

Danny nodded, shaking his head as he smiled at his friend. It was good to see Don happy. Hell, Don's mood the last few weeks could be bordering on euphoric. But he wouldn't change it. It'd been a long time since he'd seen his friend smile the way he'd been smiling lately. Each day since Angell's shooting, he'd seen Don getting better. Seen him smile more, shave more often, laugh a time or two. He'd seen him eat complete meals that didn't revolve around pizza and beer.

The one thing he hadn't seen was Don trying to get back in the game, per say. Not necessarily casual sex or one-night stands, but he had been starting to worry his friend would never be able to fully move on from his late partner.

Then Brooke Davis traipsed through their crime scene…

"What's going on there, Messer? You have bad Thai the other night or something?"

Danny snapped out his thoughts, raising his eyes to see Don's teasing face, and shook his head. "Nah, man. Just…thinking that it's good to see you happy again, you know?"

Don cringed, pulling away from the chair and straightening to his full height. "Come on, man, we getting all sentimental here?" he joked. "I think I'd prefer it if you had food poisoning."

"Hey, just cause you're not comfortable getting in touch with your inner Oprah," Danny joked, crossing his arms over his chest as he rocked back on his heels. "Seriously, man…it's good to see you like this again. It's been a long time coming."

Don nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah…you know…if you'd asked me this time six months ago that I'd be getting ready to take a girl and a kid to meet my folks…hell, I would have laughed my ass off. But now…I don't know, Mess…I don't think I could see myself without them."

Danny grinned. "Whatever you say there, Oprah."

"Cute, Messer. Way to ruin a moment."

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"Does your daddy carry a gun and badge too, Uncle Don?"

Flack couldn't have stopped the grin from spreading across his face at Jamie's words from the backseat if you'd paid him to. The kid had started calling him Uncle Don two weeks ago, and it was a sentiment that he couldn't deny he loved. Looking to the passenger seat of his SUV, he saw a similar smile spread across Brooke's face as well. "He used to," he answered, glancing at Jamie in the rearview mirror. "He doesn't work for the police department anymore, but I bet he still has his badge lying around somewhere."

Jamie nodded contently, his hands absentmindedly fiddling with the latch to his booster seat as he stared at the passing scenery out the window.

Flack shook his head before glancing again at Brooke. She looked beautiful tonight. Her long dark hair was pulled back in a twist at the base of her neck. Her black dress was formfitting, hugging her curves in a way that was discreet but obvious at the same time. The cap sleeves and striking split square neck cut left her collarbone bare, revealing her pale, flawless skin.

She'd taken his breath away the second she opened the door.

"You still freaking out over there?" he asked teasingly, maneuvering his car up the road that he'd grown up on. He heard her laugh, and he couldn't help but smile.

"Pretty much," she said, looking over at him with a smile.

"Babe, you run a multimillion dollar clothing empire. You meet strangers all the time and give speeches and presentations. And yet you're nervous about meeting a couple of old New Yorkers in Queens. Explain that to me."

Brooke scoffed, turning slightly in her seat to look at him. "Okay, first off, I am so telling your parents that you called them old," she said, ignoring the way he rolled his eyes. "Secondly, Clothes Over Bros. staff meetings and sales pitches are completely different from meeting your boyfriend's parents. I at least know what I'm doing there. We are venturing into uncharted territory here."

Don laughed, shaking his head. "You're completely crazy, you know that, right?"

She smiled, kicking her eyebrow at him. "So I've been told." She sighed, throwing her hands up slightly as she shook her head. "I'm sorry. I know I'm being totally irrational and overreacting. I just really want tonight to go well, you know?" She looked at him. "I really want them to like me."

Don nodded as he pulled into the driveway of his childhood home. He killed the engine and unfastened his seatbelt in one smooth motion, turning to lean over and press a quick, soft kiss against Brooke's lips. He pulled away after a moment, reaching up and brushing a stray piece of hair away from her face. "They're gonna love you…alright? Trust me, doll. You don't have anything to worry about." He winked when she smiled at him softly, and he kissed her again before glancing in the backseat. "What do you say, champ? Ready to get this show on the road?"

Jamie grinned, his small frame nearly bouncing at his excitement. "Yeah! Yeah let's do this!"

The adults laughed at his excited outburst, and Brooke leaned forward to press one more kiss against Don's lips before they piled out of the car. Jamie was leading the way, his youthful face glancing back now and then to make sure they were walking fast enough, as they made their way to the front door of the two story house before them. Brooke felt Don's hand close around her own, and she squeezed his fingers as her eyes took in the house. It was a beautiful blue home with white shutters, almost picturesque in her opinion. The garden encircling the house was a splash of color. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen so many different flowers before, and it was obvious someone in the house kept very good care of the garden.

"Ma's got a green thumb if you can't tell," Don said, noticing the way her eyes lingered on the plants.

Brooke nodded as they came to a stop at the front door, and as Don reached out to rap on the door with his fist before reaching for the doorknob, she took a deep breath, settling her hand on Jamie's shoulder as her young godson looked up at her in encouragement.

Once the door pushed open, the smell of slow roasted turkey assaulted their senses, and Brooke couldn't' help but smile at the fond grin that was on Don's face. He pulled her inside the house by her hand, pulling her into his side as he shut the door behind them. "Hello?" he called out, leaning around the corner to shoot a glance down the hallway.

"Donnie?"

They turned at the sound of a woman's voice, and Don's face broke into a grin when his mother came into view.

Christine Flack, still young—in Don's opinion—at 63, was the epitome of the term "homemaker." Her long dark hair, streaked gracefully with wisps of gray, was pinned up in a neat French twist, a strand of white pearls—an anniversary gift from her husband—hanging from her neck. Her maroon dress flattered her still slim figure, but in a manner that could only be described as motherly.

Her face broke into a grin at the sight of the new arrivals, her blue eyes lighting up when they caught sight of Don's arms wrapped around Brooke's waist and Jamie's shoulder.

"There you are," she said, striding towards them with a smile and reaching out to pull her son into an embrace. She sighed contently when his lips brushed against her cheek, and she pulled away to pat the side of his face affectionately. "I was starting to worry your father and I would be eating leftovers for the next month."

Don grinned. "Come on, Ma. Like I'd miss out on turkey dinner."

Christine laughed, shaking her head, before she leaned around his towering frame, her face smiling when she met Brooke's gaze. "You must be Brooke," she said pleasantly, reaching out her hand in greeting. She shook her head when Brooke returned the greeting. "You are much prettier than Donnie said you were."

She was surprised to see a faint blush spread across the young girl's face. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Flack," she said, her voice much deeper and raspier than one would expect from such a young, attractive girl. But Christine decided she liked it—it gave her character.

"Oh, please, it's Christine, dear. Believe me, there is little use for formalities in this household." She smiled as she switched her attention to the small boy that stood at Brooke's side. His bright blue eyes were peering up at her with a mixture of shyness and curiosity, and his small hand was wrapped tightly in the grip of his godmother. "And you must be Jamie, am I right?" she asked, crouching down so she was eye-level with the young boy.

Jamie nodded, reaching out his tiny hand to shake hers. "James Lucas Scott," he said proudly, his small face smiling as she shook his hand.

Christine's laughter was joined by both Don and Brooke, and she knew at that very moment that this little boy had stolen her heart. "Well, James Lucas Scott, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. Don has been talking about you a lot. I feel like I know you already." She was rewarded with another smile, and she grinned, straightening to her full height as she met Brooke's gaze again. "I'm so glad you two could join us tonight. Donnie really has been raving about the two of you."

"I don't know about _raving_," Don said sarcastically as he sidled up to Brooke, wrapping an arm around her waist. He smirked at her as she rolled her eyes.

Christine watched their interaction with a wide smile, unable to hide her delight at seeing her son so carefree. Laughing, she turned towards the kitchen, settling her hands on her hips. "Skipper? Your offspring is here! Might you grace use with your presence?"

The man that emerged from the hallway in front of them was the spitting image of Don, Brooke was surprised to see. Of course, children often looked like their parents, but Don Flack Sr. was nearly identical to his son. Same bright blue eyes, same all-American smile, same head of dark hair, though the elder's was sprinkled with gray. The only wrinkles on his face seemed to be around his eyes, an effect of his long-time profession, she was sure. She also noticed that he walked with a slight limp, and she remembered Don mentioning once that his father had retired after an on-the-job incident.

Don Sr.'s face was smiling as he approached them, and Don moved forwards to receive his father's embrace. "Hey, Pop," he said, pulling away to wrap his arm back tightly around Brooke's waist. "You look good."

"You look better, Donnie," his father replied, his eyes twinkling as they traveled to his son's companions. "You must be Brooke."

Brooke smiled, nodding as she reached out her hand. "Brooke Davis. It's nice to finally meet you, Mr. Flack."

"Oh, come on, now honey. Mr. Flack makes me sound much older than what I am," he laughed. "Call me Skipper, everyone does."

"Skipper is the guy off of _Gilligan's Island_," Jamie sounded off next to them.

Skipper let out a bark of laughter, nodding his head as he looked down at the boy. "That he is," he said, smiling. "You must be Jamie, huh?" Jamie nodded, smiling. "Well, Jamie, my friends call me Skipper, too. Hopefully that's okay with you."

"It's cool," Jamie enthused, his young face grinning from ear to ear. "He's always been my favorite. Way cooler than Gilligan."

"Ah, that's the spirit, kid," Skipper said, smiling as he reached his hand out to the boy. "Donnie tells me you like basketball?" Jamie nodded as he took the older man's hand without hesitation. "There's a special going on about season highlights. How about you and I head in and maybe you can teach me a thing or two, huh?"

Christine sighed as she watched the two disappear down the hallway. "Oh, Lord. We'll be lucky if they even make it to dinner now." She smiled when she caught Brooke nodding in understand, and she laughed. "Alright then. Come on in to the kitchen, you two. Brooke, I would love to hear about this wonderful company of yours."

Brooke nodded as she and Don made their way to follow his mother, and she grinned when she felt Don's breath against her ear. "Told ya. Slam dunk, doll."

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To Brooke's relief, dinner went amazingly well. Her first bout of nerves quickly dissipated after Don Sr. told the story of how he got the nickname "Skipper"—a rather funny tale of his first few weeks as a beat cop with a sergeant that liked to have his recruits believing false police procedures when dealing with false alarm 911 calls—, but she certainly attributed a lot of it to Don's reassuring grip on her hand under the table. Soon enough, she found herself relaxing around the dinner table, laughing at the obvious fondness that the Flack family shared, and feeling very happy when they seemed to include her and Jamie effortlessly into that.

She stood at the kitchen sink now, one of Christine's old aprons tied tightly around her waist. She hadn't listened to the woman's insistence that she didn't need to help with the evening clean-up, instead choosing to rinse and help load the dishwasher.

"This must all be very new for you."

She looked over when Christine spoke, her eyebrows raised in question as she ran a dishrag over the plate in her hands.

"Motherhood," Christine said, smiling sweetly as she took the plate from Brooke's hands. "Donnie told me about Jamie's parents…I can't even imagine." She sighed, tilting her head as she took her in. "I don't know how much it counts coming from someone you just met, but you're doing a wonderful job with Jamie. He's a very lucky boy."

Brooke smiled, shrugging her shoulders. "I'm pretty sure I'm the lucky one. When Nathan and Haley died…well, let's just say I didn't handle it well. I sure didn't think giving custody of Jamie to me was a good idea, but…I think they knew that I would need him just as much as he needed me." She smiled. "Not that there aren't still a ton of screw ups nowadays."

Christine laughed, placing a hand on her shoulder in a motherly fashion that Brooke was completely unfamiliar with, but cherished all the same. "Oh, trust me, sweetie. That's a constant struggle. It never changes, not even when your kids are old enough to go off on their own." Her smile was wistful as she looked over her shoulder into the living room, where Don and her husband were seated around a smiling Jamie, their laughter drifting into the room as they played some card game. "You know…I started to worry about him after Detective Angell passed away."

Brooke stopped rinsing the plate as she heard the woman's words.

"I guess it's second nature to me now, worrying about my kids. But Donnie…he's like his father. Always very collected when it comes to his personal feelings, never really letting anybody know just what was going on in his head. But anybody could see how much pain he was in after Jessica. I really started to worry that I wasn't going to get my son back." She turned back to Brooke then, smiling. "And then you come along."

Brooke smiled softly.

"You're special, Brooke. I think Donnie could tell that about you right away. I could certainly tell from the second you walked into the house. And that little boy in there is evidence enough." She smiled, leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. "Promise you'll stick around for a bit?"

Brooke laughed, fighting back the tears she could feel welling in her eyes. "I promise."

They both laughed and turned when they heard light, shuffling footsteps headed into the kitchen.

Jamie sighed as she came to a stop in front of them, his blue eyes peering up at his aunt. "They told me I can't play poker with them anymore."

The two women laughed, and Brooke crouched down so she could talk to her godson face to face. "They did, huh?"

Jamie nodded. "Yeah. Uncle Don owes me 500 big ones, so I'm counting on you to help me collect, Aunt Brooke."

"Oh, dear," Christine said over Brooke' laughter, smiling as she pulled a chair over the kitchen counter and patted its seat. "Well, you best take a seat, Jamie. We've gotta work out a payment schedule of some kind. Donnie still owes me from his back allowances when he was 13."

Brooke couldn't help but smile as Jamie climbed his way onto the chair, his youthful face smiling happily at the older woman standing next to him. Shaking her head, she rose to her full height, her hazel eyes traveling to the living room to connect with Don's blue gaze. His handsome face was stretched out in a smile, and she couldn't help but return it with a wink as she turned her attention back to the dishes.

In the living room, Skipper was watching his eldest son with a content expression. Don hadn't been able to take his eyes off Brooke Davis since the evening began. When she spoke, he was all ears. When she laughed, his attention was only on her. When she would grow quiet, he would rub her shoulder and push a strand of hair out her face. The whole evening, he only had eyes for her.

Even during his relationship with Jessica, Don had never been this invested.

"You know, it takes a lot of guts to take on everything Brooke has."

Don tore his eyes away from the woman in the kitchen to look over at his father, and he nodded, smiling softly. "She's tough, Pops. A lot tougher than people give her credit for."

"She's a spitfire for sure. So is that's little boy. You realize that if I follow through on my bets, he's gonna suck away my whole pension?" Don laughed, nodding as he took a sip of his beer. "I haven't seen poker moves like that since I worked with Wellington in Warrants back in '79. If that's any indication, you better keep a close eye on that boy."

"Oh, trust me, I have every intention. He's gonna take after Brooke, I'm sure, which means we're all in trouble."

Skipper chuckled, running a hand over his jean-clad leg as he shook his head. "You happy, Donnie?"

Don looked at him, his face contemplative before he turned to look once again into the kitchen, and a small smile spread across his face. "Yeah, Pops…I'm happy."

His father nodded, smiling softly. "Good," he said, patting his son on the back as he leaned further into the couch cushion. He followed his son's gaze and focused on the sight of his wife in the kitchen, her still beautiful face lit up with a smile as she showed young Jamie how do set the dishwater settings, his delighted giggle at pouring in the suds bringing a smile to his face.

"Good."

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**Yay! Hope you guys liked it! Let me know what you think.**


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